NA  HEBERTON  EWING 


(Heoeriea 


ANNA    HEBERTON    EWING 


sound  is  dissonant  which  tells  of  life — COLERIDGE 


THE  NEALE  Co.,  PUBLISHERS 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

M  c  M 


Copyright,   iqoo,  Ann»  Heberton 


< 


AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED  TO  MY 

Q 

J  FATHER, 

GEORGE  HRBERTON, 

jy,  WITH    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS   TO 

**fr 

ENCOURAGING   FRIENDS 

O 

<M 

A.  H.  E. 

ct 


402G37 


PREFACE. 


IN  PRESENTING  this  little  book  of  Poems  to  the 
public  the  writer  realizes  that  for  its  success,  it  be 
founded  on  the  principles  of  truth,  to  assure  its 
power  of  giving  pleasure. 

It  is  evident  that  for  many  years  the  people  of  the 
United  States  of  America  have  been  so  absorbed  in 
commercial  pursuits  and  the  contemplation  of  the 
beauties  of  the^flash  of  the  sword  of  battle,  that  they 
have  not  properly  valued  the  charms  of  poesy  or  the 
beauties  of  art.  Food  for  the  heart  and  brain  and 
appreciation  of  the  lovely  gifts  of  Nature  in  adding 
to  the  pleasures  of  the  human  heart  the  most  valu 
able  conceptions  of  the  brain,  have  been  seemingly 
a  lost  and  feeble  emolument  to  them  —  not  worthy  of 
care.  The  flowers  strewn  along  our  path  should  not 
be  allowed  to  wither  and  die  ;  but  let  us  gather  the 
fragrance  as  we  pass  and  absorb  their  sweetness  as 
dewdrops  on  the  lyric  blossoms,  purity  and  love. 
They  are  the  faint  touch  of  God's  hand  as  He 
blesses  our  way  through  the  journey  of  life. 

Poetry  and  art  are  ennobling  to  the  soul  of  man, 
and  should  have  a  place  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  the 


heart.     This  truth  will  not  be  denied  by  any  one 
who  gives  them  careful  study  and  contemplation. 

There  are  a  great  number  of  ancient  poems,  but 
the  difference  in  the  dialect  at  the  time  they  were 
written,  and  that  and  the  language  of  the  present 
day  even  in  the  country  in  which  they  were  written, 
and  their  dialect  of  the  present  day,  renders  these 
poems  almost  valueless  to  the  people.  Even  the 
old  English  has  changed,  until  some  of  their  great 
poems  are  scarcely,  if  ever,  read  at  the  present  time. 
Milder  and  more  competent  judges  have  set  no  bar 
to  the  poetry  of  the  present  day  in  America,  Eng 
land  or  the  Latin  countries.  More  than  twenty-five 
hundred  years  have  rolled  their  ample  rounds  since 
that  gentle  woman  poured  out,  like  the  song  bird, 
her  immortal  song  on  the  little  island  of  Lesbos,  in 
the  JEgean  Sea  ;  and  yet  how  few  remember  even 
the  name  of  her  husband  or  daughter.  Still,  in 
what  nation  or  country  has  the  name  of  Sappho 
been  forgotten.  She  is  still  the  Grecian  poet,  who 
has  left  a  name  immortal. 

When  the  people  of  our  country  give  reasonable 
support  to  the  writers  and  publishers  of  books  of 
poetry,  there  will  be  abundance  of  talent  in  that 
line  displayed  in  America  to  satisfy  the  world  that 
America  has  plenty  of  poetic  genius  to  fully  cope 
with  the  age.  ALSQN  L 

Washington,  D.  C., 

October  zotfi,  jooo. 


CONTENTS 


A  Farewell 2'6 

A  Glance 105 

A  Lost  Ideal 88 

A  Prayer 7^ 

A  Rift 27 

A  Scar 80 

A  Shield to8 

A  Strawberry    Wise       70 

A    Tender  Hand ioo 

A    Year  Ago 60 

A  Zephyr jo 

Adieu,  Last  Star 106 

Age's  Snow £><5 

An  Angel   Voice     .    .    .    f jf 

An  Answer  to  "Parting" 84. 

April  Days 8f 

Art  Subjugated 75 

At  Set  of  Sun 25 

At  Seven 55 

Baby  Boy 29 

Beyond  Our  Ken 26 

Charm      77" 

vii 


Chords 34. 

Clouds 62 

Companionship po 

Confidences 77 

Daffodil 89 

Discontent 6j 

Disillusioned 98 

Dreams po 

Echoes 102 

Edna 86 

Eleanore \ // 

Fame 58 

Florence 54. 

Friendship 63 

Greetings 30 

Guitar  Song  . 82 

Hadst  Thou  Been   There      66 

His  Meaning 65 

Human  Nature 82 

Impromptu 58 

Inspiration .  7^ 

In  Solitude 95 

Jack's    Wife 103 

Janice 62 

Joy 34 

Leona 32 

Lily  Bell  Chimes .  86 

Lines 91 

Love's  Awakening 25 

viii 


Love  Blossoms jj 

Lullaby .    .  68 

Memory's  Sea 88 

Moonlight  Musings 7<5 

Mrs.  Brownie 61 

My  Sweet 91 

My  Sweetheart /p 

None  But  the  Birds 78 

Not  Forgotten 92 

"Now  the  Day  is  Over"     , 56 

O  Follow  Me 55 

One  Grief 55? 

One  Nook P7 

Our  Tree 85 

Overlooked , 107 

Pure  Joy 63 

Relinquished 6p 

Repose ...  29 

Resignation 27 

Reverie J5 

Rhapsody 57 

Saucy  Red  Robin pj 

Shall   We lop 

Some  Solace  Sweet  Creating 80 

Spray 70 

Tears 6r 

Tenderness 81 

The  Daisy  Dell p/ 

The  Dying  Day pp 

ix 


The  Leaves   Turn  Red 7J 

The  Legend  of  Lake   Toledo 36 

The  Mask. 101 

The  Organ1  s  Message 28 

The  Rolling  Sea 7/ 

The  Scales  of  Life 83 

The  Wild  Rose  Blushes 66 

Thy  Star  a   Crown <5/ 

To  a  Friend jf 

To  a  Friend no 

When    Thou  Art  Near     .    . 


(Reverie* 

ELEANORE 

PART   I 

THE  ball-room  at  "  Dome  "  had  been  gorgeous  that 

night. 
When  the  guests  were  all  gone  and  low  was  the 

light,- 

Where  recently  brilliant  had  been  the  scene, 
With  rare  jewels'  brightness  and  satin's  rich  sheen,— 
A  broken  ear-ring  lay  lost  on  the  floor, 
And  some  crushed  flower  petals  anear  the  door 
Were  dying  and  sending  their  farewell  perfume 
To  their  still  fresh  companions  across  the  room. 
Silence  reigned.     Not  e'en  the  faintest  sound 
Stirred  to  break  the  stillness  profound  — 
But  a  little  while  since  both  song  and  cheer 
Had  each  in  turn  rilled  the  large  space  here. 
One  singer,  a  tenor,  whose  voice  held  the  spell 
Of  power  and  beauty  ;  sinking  to  swell 
In  the  hearts  of  his  hearers,  as  well  as  in  tone, 
Had  found  in  the  heart  of  a  maiden  his  throne. 


ii 


Now  in  the  dimness,  at  hour  of  three, 
A  foot-step  is  heard,  quick,  bold  and  free, 
Through  the  spacious  halls,  the  owner's  tread  — 
Then  his  voice:    "  Ha,  Monsieur,  I  thought  you  in 

bed." 

The  answer  came  in  a  rich,  low  tone  : 
"  By  your  kindness,  Lord  Horton,  I  room  alone, 
And  disturbed  I  none,  then,  by  slipping  out 
To  rid  me  of  wakefulness,  strolling  about." 
"Very  well,  use  your  pleasure  ;  good-night  tho'. 
Lady  Horton  awaits,  I  really  must  go." 
The  Earl  closed  his  door.     Le  Tiers  moved  along, 
Entered  the  ball-room  humming  a  song. 
Low  was  the  tone,  yet  so  high  was  his  art 
That  it  pierced  the  silence  —  this  song  of  a  heart. 
Then  slowly  he  lighted  a  taper  he  'd  brought, 
And  sought  about  wildly,  like  one  distraught, 
'Neath  potted  plants,  piano  and  harp, 
'Til  with  a  cry,  exultant  and  sharp, 
He  saw  in  the  distance  the  fiery  gleam 
Of  the  ruby  trinket  —  in  truth  't  would  seem 
A  star  had  dropped  at  his  earnest  request, 
Or  his  lonely  life  been  most  suddenly  blessed. 
Then  amazement  lighted  anew  his  face, 
For  a  foot-step  was  heard  near  the  silent  place. 
And  there,  just  standing  within  the  door, 
Was  the  Earl's  fairest  daughter  —  Eleanore. 
The  light  from  a  tiny  candle  she  bore 
Made  her  grave,  sweet  face  seem  all  the  more 


Like  chiselled  marble,  pale  in  the  gloom 

From  the  back-ground  of  darkness  outside  the  room. 

She  had  come  to  look  for  the  jewel  so  dear 

To  her  woman's  heart  ;  had  heard  with  fear 

The  hoarse,  sharp  cry  ;  had  stood  quite  still, 

Lacking  the  power  to  move, —  or  the  will, — 

When  across  the  dimness  once  more  she  heard 

That  tenor  voice,  sweeter  than  viol  or  bird. 

She  put  down  the  candle  as  one  in  a  trance, 

And,  with  hands  clasped  together,  began  to  advance 

Slowly  down  the  now  gleaming  floor 

Where  the  light  paved  a  way  from  the  sill  of  the  door. 

Like  a  creature  of  other  than  flesh  seemed  she, 

With  her  glorious  hair  almost  to  her  knee 

And  eyes  so  brilliantly,  dazzlingly  bright 

That  they  lent  her  rare  beauty  a  splendor  and  might. 

Le  Tiers  spoke  softly  as  she  drew  near : 

1 '  Thy  father  allowed  me  to  wander  in  here 

Because  I  was  sleepless,  my  lady  so  fair. 

By  my  faith,  but  this  taper  a'most  burned  thy  hair  ! ' ' 

"Ah,  Monsieur  has  blown  out  the  tiny  light  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  to  save  thy  tresses  —  their  radiance  bright 

Will  light  up  the  darkness.     Compared  to  thine  eyes, 

The  candle  off  yonder  is  but  a  surmise 

Of  brilliancy.     Felt  thou,  then,  sleepless  too 

That  thou  cam'st  to  the  flowers  to  hear  what  to  do  ? 

They  have  been  telling  my  fortune  to  me, 

And  each  one  has  whispered  a  new  thought  of  thee." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  !  I  pray  thee,  cease  speaking  of  me. 

'3 


When  thou  dost  sing  otie  may  listening  be, 
But  words  are  great  monsters,  leave  them  by. 
I  came  to  the  ball-room  that  here  I  might  try 
To  find  1113'  sweet  ear-ring  —  the  stone  is  red, 
A  ruby  once  owned  by  my  sister,  now  dead." 
"  Yes  ;  I  saw  the  fall  of  the  jewel  thou  'st  lost 
And  determined  to  save  it  at  e'en  great  cost 
Of  rude  misconstruction  upon  my  acts  — 
But  of  food  will  my  motive  nothing  lacks. 
Thy  ear-ring  I  came  to  this  spot  to  find, 
And  meeting  thy  father,  I  had  it  in  mind 
To  tell  him  to  go  and  secure  thy  treasure, 
But  I  greatly  desired  for  myself  the  pleasure 
Of  holding  the  truant.     Watched  I  not  well 
Lady  Eleanore's  movements  to  note  when  it  fell?" 
"  A  heart  full  of  thanks,  Monsieur  ;  't  is  true 
Thou  hast  done  me  of  services  now  not  a  few. 
Each  song  from  thy  lips  has  found  its  way 
To  my  mem'ry  of  mem'ries  —  there  to  stay. 
Sing  others,  ere  leaving  to-morrow,  they  '11  burn 
In  my  mind  till  my  father  shall  bid  thee  return." 
Her  face  was  as  white  as  the  new-fallen  snow 
As  his  eyes  met  hers  when  she  turned  to  go. 
"Since  thy  kindness  thou  dost  graciously  show 
O'er  my  songs,  they  all  from  my  heart  shall  flow, 
Lady  Eleanore  ;  passing  my  lips  always 
As  songs  to  thy  beauty,  songs  to  thy  praise." 
Le  Tiers  placed  the  jewel  in  her  dainty  hand 
And  bent  low  to  kiss  a  broad  diamond  band 

14 


Which  encircled  one  of  her  fingers  fair  — 

To  touch  the  soft  flesh  he  did  not  dare. 

The  thought  in  his  gesture  Eleanore  felt 

As  well  as  his  love.     Did  her  clear  look  melt 

In  spite  of  all  dignified  bearing?     She  gave 

Him  a  glance  that  many  a  gallant  would  crave. 

Then  turning,  she  swept  down  the  ancient  halls 

Beneath  the  portraits  that  lined  the  walls  — 

Paintings  of  earls  and  lords  a  score, 

And  their  ladies,  ancestors  of  Eleanore. 

In  her  hand  she  clasped  the  crimson  stone 

So  tightly  it  cut  a' most  into  the  bone 

Of  the  self-same  hand,  where,  shining  bright, 

Was  the  ring  that  Monsieur  had  kissed  that  night ; 

That  ring  which  all  in  her  caste  were  aware 

Meant  that  she  the  great  name  of  Furoci  would  bear 

As  the  bride  of  the  count  (ere  a  year  would  wane), 

Who  had  from  his  travels  returned  again. 


PART   II 

In  her  chamber  above,  with  dreamy  young  face, 
Sat  the  Earl's  second  daughter,  the  L,ady  Grace. 
A  song  in  her  fancy  was  sung  o'er  again 
Till  it  filled  all  her  life,  as  it  filled  her  pure  brain. 
And  now  that  the  voice  could  softly  be  heard 
Humming  below  without  motif  or  word, 

15 


The  air  seemed  alive  with  a  myriad  of  tones 
That  appealed  to  the  heart  in  rapturous  moans. 
The  gentle  maid  listened  ;  a  deep,  rosy  glow 
Spreading  up  to  her  forehead.     Whispered  she  low 
With  dimpling  smiles,  "  Can  it  be  true 
That  he  sings  'neath  this  window,  my  fancy  to  sue? 
He  has  the  bearing  of  princes  and  earls 
And  a  new  panorama  of  love  he  unfurls. 
With  one  tone  of  his  voice,  one  look  of  his  eye  — 
Yet  because  he  *s  a  commoner  he  must  pass  by. 
My  father's  guests  he  must  well  entertain, 
Then  leave —  and  mayhap  not  return  again. 
Ah,  me  !  "    Then  she  paused  and  moved  to  her  door, 
For  she  heard  the  soft  tread  of  the  proud  Eleanore, 
Who  passed  on  unheeding — nor  smiled  she  nor  turned. 
So  Grace  remained  silent,  tho'  greatly  concerned 
Lest  ill  had  befallen  her  sister,  the  queen 
Of  all  women  on  earth  that  sweet  Grace  had  e'er  seen. 
To  her,  Lady  Eleanore's  joys,  hopes  and  fears 
Were  matters  of  feeling  for  laughter  or  tears  ; 
Not  one  in  the  world  could  more  easily  trace 
Fair    Eleanore's  thoughts   than    could  sweet  Lady 
Grace. 

The  day  dawned  in  splendor  of  sunshine.     The  snow 
Lay  over  the  ground,  and  it  sparkled  so 
In  response  to  the  warmth  of  Sol's  caress, 
Yet  remaining  too  cold  for  real  tenderness. 
The  house  guests  assembled  for  five-o'clock  tea  ; 

16 


All  were  there  present  —  nay,  all  but  three. 

(To  use  their  pleasure  throughout  the  morn 

But  assemble  at  five  was  the  house  rule  at  "Dome.") 

L,ady  Eleanore's  absence  with  L,ady  Grace 

Sent  a  look  of  amazement  o'er  every  face, 

While  in  tones  decided  the  Earl's  command 

Rang  out  to  the  butler,   "James,  this  note  hand 

To  Monsieur ;  m)'  compliments,  and  request 

That  he  join  us  here  now  at  my  behest." 

Some  moments  later  L,e  Tiers,  with  a  bow, 

Entered  and  said,  "Some  music  is  now 

At  thy  command  ;  pardon,  I  pray, 

That  packing  has  kept  me  so  long  away. 

To-morrow  in  London  the  '  Nibelung  Ring  ' 

Is  commenced,  in  which  I  'm  obliged  to  sing, 

As  thou  knowest,  Countess.    Which  shall  it  be  — 

The  farewell  song  I  shall  sing  for  thee  ?  " 

Then  flooding  the  mansion  from  centre  to  stone 

Rang  out  each  melodious,  bell-like  tone. 

In  the  midst  of  the  singing,  with  slow,  soft  pace, 

There  entered  the  room  the  Lady  Grace. 

Her  face  was  sad,  from  her  lips  was  fled 

The  girlish  smile  and  the  blood's  young  red ; 

And  followed  was  she  by  the  regal  form. 

Of  proud  Eleanore  —  in  calm  or  in  storm 

Able  alike  with  deportment  of  ease 

To  meet  each  demand  on  her  power  to  please. 

"The  harp,  with  Monsieur's  beauteous  voice," 

Was  the  next  in  the  eager  company's  choice, 

17 


And  smiled  they  all  when  most  graciously 
Fair  Eleanore  deigned  to  agree 
The  chords  to  play  for  Monsieur  Le  Tiers. 
That  her  heart  sang  with  him,  who  was  aware  ? 

When  in  the  flow  of  most  marvelous  tone 

The  company  was  wrapped,  there  came  alone 

Into  the  music-room  a  guest 

All  unannounced,  as  if  in  quest 

Of  certain  welcome.     A  joyous  smile 

Lighted  his  handsome  visage,  while 

He  bowed  to  his  hostess  and  then  in  haste 

Moved  towards  Eleanore,  not  to  waste 

A  moment  in  staying  from  by  her  side  — 

Two  years  had  he  lingered  away  from  his  bride. 

Slowly  she  lifted  her  dream-weaving  eyes  — 

Then  clash,  made  a  discord  in  pained  surprise 

At  the  sudden  appearance  of  Count  Furoci, 

And  with  her  whole  being  she  longed  to  —  be  free 

In  an  instant  her  glance  so  strange  and  set 

Changed  to  a  look  of  soft,  friendly  regret, 

Then  playing  on  with  most  steady  care 

She  bowed  to  her  lord  —  and  bowed  to  despair  ! 

The  song  now  ended,  greetings  ensued. 
Despite  which  honors  the  Count  seemed  subdued. 
And  with  an  expression  earnest  and  grave 
Declined  all  refreshment,  asked  nothing  save 

18 


To  beg  but  a  moment  alone  with  the  maid 
Whose  greeting  had  made  him  for  love  feel  afraid. 
"  One  second,"  she  whispered,  "  wait  till  I  say 
Adieu  to  Monsieur  —  I  so  poorly  did  play 
His  accompaniment  simple.     Go  thee  ahead, 
And  I  then  will  follow  wherever  thou  treadst. ' ' 
She  paused  near  Le  Tiers,  and,  as  if  in  adieu, 
Said,    "  Delay  thy  departure  an  hour  or  two." 
He  wondered  at  hearing  the  gentle  request 
And  consented  to  do  whate'er  she  thought  best. 
Then  to  the  garden  fair  Eleanore  turned. 
Her  soft  hand  trembled,  her  proud  face  burned. 
On  the  pathway  was  waiting  the  Lady  Grace, 
Who,  with  tearful  eyes,  searched  Eleanore' s  face. 
"  Dearheart,"  she  cried,  "  well  do  I  know 
Thy  love  doth  not  now  in  the  right  channel  flow. 
Unhappy  myself,  how  much  more  for  thee 
Do  my  sad  tears  fall  o'er  thy  misery." 
"  Nay,  Gracie,  thy  day  for  grief  is  not  nigh  ; 
See,  I  can  smile,  so  why  shouldst  thou  cry  ?  ' ' 


PART   III 

Right  bravely  spake  fair  Lady  Eleanore. 
Moving  on,  she  found  —  in  but  one  moment  more 
Herself  in  the  Count's  most  loving  embrace  ; 
Then  shrank  she  from  him.     His  noble  face 

19 


Flushed  crimson  ;  he  loosed  his  trembling  hold, 

Then  said  he  gently,  in  voice  controlled  : 

"  May  I  speak,  Eleanore,  of  the  change  that  took  place 

In  thy  sweet  expression — at  sight  of  my  face? 

'T  was  as  if  thou  started  in  fear  and  in  pain, 

And  I  dread  that  my  absence  has  been  some  one's 

gain. 

If  indeed  I  'm  not  first,  dear  one,  with  thee, 
Thou  needst  ask  but  once  for  thy  liberty. 
Question  I  not  my  heart's  fiancee, 
Thy  bidding  is  all  that  I  ask  thee  to-day." 
The  Count  stood  with  lofty  bearing,  tho'  he 
Turned  to  marble-white  with  intensity  ; 
While  Eleanore  realized  anew 
His  grandeur  of  nature  —  shared  with  but  few. 
Too  late,  however,  this  new-born  thought  — 
He  had  left  her  alone,  her  heart  untaught. 
With  another  she  'd  entered  love's  sphere,  untrod; 
To  another  she  'd  turned  in  the  sight  of  God. 
And  thus  spoke  she  :   "In  truth  't  is  meet 
That  my  father's  daughter  should  be  discreet. 
I  will  fairly  tell  of  my  feelings  for  thee, 
But  will  say  naught  more  —  tho'  more  there  be." 
Her  sweet  voice  faltered,  but  high  —  instead 
Of  bending  —  held  she  her  haughty  head  ; 
Her  eyes  again  filled  with  that  sad  regret 
As  with  gentle  candor  his  own  they  met. 
"  Count  Furoci,  I  dreamed  not  what  was  meant 
When  I  gave  to  our  troth  my  girlish  consent. 


Since  then,  in  tliy  absence,  I  've  learned  to  know 

That  like  one's  mind,  one's  feelings  can  grow. 

I  owe  thee  thanks,  hold  thee  truly  dear 

In  friendly  regard  —  but  let  it  be  clear 

That  my  love  can  never  be  won  by  thee, 

Tho'  my  promise  I  '11  keep  in  all  constancy." 

"  'T  is  enough,"  said  the  Count,  "I  leave  to-night. 

May  thy  life  be  filled  with  peace  and  delight." 

He  quickly  bowed  and  as  quickly  withdrew, 

While  Eleanore,  moved  by  instinct  true, 

Silenced  the  beating  of  her  heart 

And  hastened  away  that  she  might  impart 

A  warning  to  L,e  Tiers  —  that  he  take 

His  departure  ere  the  storm  should  break. 

And  so  she  wrote  with  a  steady  hand  : 

"  Monsieur,  I  beg  thee  —  nay,  I  command  — 

That,  for  a  reason  best  known  to  me, 

In  an  hour's  time  thou  afar  wilt  be. 

May  heaven's  blessings  attend  thee  ever 

In  all  thou  achievest  in  earnest  endeavor." 

Scarce  had  an  hour  passed  ere  she 
Was  sent  for  to  come  to  the  library. 
Here  stood  the  Earl  with  deepening  frown  ; 
His  wife,  in  tears,  on  the  couch  lay  down. 
Her  son  attended  the  Countess  with  care. 
But  none  had  a  smile  for  Eleanore  fair. 
Count  Furoci  came  forward  with  noble  grace, 
Saying,   "  Pray  let  me  answer  all  in  thy  place." 

21 


Then  turned  he  to  the  enraged  Earl 

Whose  eyes  flashed  fire  o'er  lips'  proud  curl. 

"  Friend,  I  beseech  thee,  end  this  scene  ; 

Nor  blame  that  something  has  come  between 

Our  cherished  wishes  —  say  me  nay 

And  thou  but  hasten  my  steps  away." 

"Count  Furoci,"  the  maiden  began — but  the  Earl 

E'en  most  shouted,   "  Is  this  true,  girl, 

That  thou  canst  thus  thy  promise  break 

For  some  unworthy  scoundrel's  sake  ? 

Wilt  thou  the  first  of  thy  long  line  be 

To  lower  our  pride  of  ancestry  ? 

For  know  I  well  the  name  he  bears 

Who  for  thy  love  and  favor  dares  — 

A  name  unheard  except  in  print 

Of  opera  programs,  tinsel  s  glint  !  ' 

Oh,  never  could  the  wrath  and  scorn 

Within  his  tones  be  penned  —  or  borne  ! 

Eleanore's  strength  at  last  gave  way, 

Her  head  fell  back,  her  form's  first  sway 

Was  noted  by  the  Count,  whose  arm 

Had  caught  her  ere  he  gave  alarm  ; 

While  the  weeping  countess  dried  her  tears 

And  worded  many  tardy  fears. 

The  Count  departed.     In  his  stead 

There  entered  now,  with  manly  tread, 

I^e  Tiers.     He  calmly  met  the  eyes 

Of  all  —  now  silenced  with  surprise. 

"  Monsieur  L,e  Tiers  is  nowhere  here," 


He  coldly  said,  "  it  would  appear. 

A  tragic  moment,  Earl,  't  is  true, 

If  came  Le  Tiers  to  say  adieu. 

In  honor  of  my  favorite  art, 

Music,  have  I  but  played  a  part 

Of  late  in  the  world's  artistic  eye. 

Enough  of  that  !     Now  pass  it.     I 

Am,  by  right  of  birth  and  lineage,  last 

Marquis  of  Liion,  et  Due  d'Gaste. 

As  suitor  for  thy  daughter's  hand 

I  offer  rank  and  love  and  land. 

My  singing,  which  won  sweet  Eleanore's  love, 

However,  in  value  I  count  far  above 

My  ancestral  worth,  my  mansions  complete, 

And  I  lay  it,  with  them,  at  my  fair  lady's  feet." 

The  Earl  and  his  son  at  one  another 

Gazed,  as  if  they  still  wondered  whether 

Le  Tiers  was  raving  and  they  the  same. 

Then  a  gentle  sigh  from  Eleanore  came. 

The  Countess  —  well  versed  in  family  lore  — 

Was  astonished  and  charmed  all  the  more, 

For  the  fact  that  she  knew  he  spoke  the  truth. 

Here  was  a  tale  to  tell  forsooth. 

She  had  heard  of,  o'er  many  a  cup  of  tea, 

The  hermit  Due  of  French  ancestry 

Who  never  was  seen,  of  whose  regal  estate 

(Sites  in  three  countries)  travelers  relate  ; 

And  here  he  was  standing,  king  of  romance, 

A  great  name  in  art  —  a  Marquis  in  France. 

23 


The  Countess  glanced  at  the  pale  Eleanore, 

Then  arose  and  crossed  the  polished  floor. 

"  Monsieur  L,e  Tiers,  —  nay,  Marquis,  Duke,— 

We  do  thee  all  honor,  ourselves  rebuke. 

Come  with  me,  my  husband  ;  come,  my  son, 

'T  is  time  our  Eleanore's  joy  begun. 

Duke,  I  beg,  if  she  answers  not  nay, 

Thou  among  us  feel  most  welcome  to  stay." 

The  Earl  turned  slowly  and  shook  his  head, 

"  'T  is  ever  an  evil  moment,"  he  said, 

"  When  a  lad  forsakes  his  heraldry 

For  a  thankless  world  —  and  celebrity. 

But  thou  to  a  most  illustrious  name 

Have  succeeded  in  adding  both  worth  and  fame." 

So  speaking,  he  softly  left  the  room 

Where  disaster  had  threatened  to  be  love's  doom. 

And  the  nobleman  bent  o'er  the  blushing  girl  : 

"Oh,  true  heart;  oh,  brave  heart,  tny  senses  whirl  ! 

I  've  finished  my  life  of  publicity, 

And  I  dedicate,  sweet,  the  same  to  thee. 

May  I  claim  my  noble  darling  to  wife  ? 

Ah,  I  see  in  thy  face,  thou  art  mine  for  life  !  " 


AT  SET   OF  SUN 

THE  sea  has  a  million  waves, 

The  lakelet,  none  ; 
So  my  heart  with  anguish  raves 

At  set  of  sun. 

Life,  like  a  river,  flowed 

Happy  and  free ; 
L,ove  on  its  torrent  glowed 

Brightly  for  thee. 

Joy  smiled  a  million  ways, 

Night  has  begun  ; 
Love  perished  with  the  rays 

At  set  of  sun. 


LOVE'S   AWAKENING 

SOME  of  the  languor  of  Italy's  child, 

Some  of  the  warmth  of  the  Orient's  skies, 

Some  of  the  gleam  of  a  tiger's  wild 
Has  crept  into  my  rose-bud's  eyes. 

Some  of  the  shyness  of  a  bird, 
Some  of  the  witchery  of  a  maid  ; 

A  softer  tone  in  the  turn  of  a  word 
From  my  Rose's  lips,  and  all  is  said. 

25 


BEYOND   OUR   KEN 

STARS  and  stars  o'erlace  the  sky 

And  each  to  us  a  mystery. 

We  plume  us  in  our  earthly  lore, 

But  know  than  tiny  babes  scarce  more 

Of  that  infinite,  Godly  dome 

Where  the  bright  stars  find  a  home. 


A    FAREWELL 

FAREWELL  !    Mine  eyes  will  follow  thee 
In  mind  across  the  restless  sea. 
Where'er  my  thoughts  are,  thou'lt  be  there 
In  circles  gay  or  hours  of  prayer  ; 
And  if  one  jot  of  good  I  own. 
If  any  seeds  of  might  I  've  sown. 
Upon  thy  head  the  crown  will  lie, 
Unless  thy  hand  should  pass  it  by. 
Farewell  !    Thy  face  is  pictured  here 
Within  my  heart.     Thy  kind  words,  dear, 
Re-echo  throughout  my  life  to  bless 
The  future  in  its  loneliness. 
Let  some  thoughts  upon  me  dwell  ; 
They  '11  gratify,  thou  know'st  well, 
Their  distant  subject.     Fare  thee  well  .' 
And  in  thy  heart  contentment  dwell. 

26 


A   RIFT 

WOULDST  them,  then,  my  hand  unclasp 
While  holding  thine  in  gentle  grasp  ? 
Wouldst  thou  have  thy  moments  free 
From  companionship  with  me  ? 
My  heart,  indeed,  is  not  a  stone  ; 
Its  tenderness  is  plainly  shown  — 
Too  plainly  !     Once  \ve  saw  the  day 
When  all  the  world  had  to  give  away 
Unto  thy  love  —  thy  love  for  me  ! 
'T  is  but  a  semblance  now  I  see 
Of  what  once  was.      Must  I,  too,  fall 
From  our  love's  delightful,  gracious  thrall  ! 


RESIGNATION 

WHAT  peaceful  hours  were  once  enjoyed, 
How  sweet  their  memory  still  ! 

But  they  have  left  an  aching  void 
The  world  can  never  fill. 

What  now  remains  is  vaster,  far, 
Than  could  be  what  we  've  missed. 

The  rod  was  but  a  blessed  bar 
That  must  be  humbly  kissed. 

27 


THE   ORGAN'S   MESSAGE 

THE  organ  recital  was  nearing  its  close, 

And  at  the  keys  was  one  who,  if  he  chose, 

Could  use  the  rare  power  of  throwing  a  spell 

Of  mystic  persuasion  into  the  swell 

And  fall  of  the  organ's  message  —  that  we 

Should  shape  our  lives  for  Eternity. 

The  organist  drew  forth  sounds  divine 

As  if  in  prayer  at  the  Holy  Shrine  ; 

The  dusk  of  the  hour  lent  its  lofty  aid 

And  a  deeply  religious  impression  made. 

Stained  glass  windows  —  red,  purple,  blue  — 

Gave,  by  their  warmth  and  richness  of  hue, 

An  added  beauty,  and  fitting  might 

To  the  last  adieu  of  the  dying  light. 

Up  to  the  dome  the  music  soared, 

And  into  our  innermost  senses  poured 

Like  a  deep,  oily  river  of  harmony, 

Drawing  us  on  to  what  we  should  be. 

The  chords  grew  softer,  then  whispering,  ceased  ; 

The  colors  dimmed,  the  dark  shadows  increased  ! 

The  organ  closed,  vast  silence  reigned  — 

A  soul  has  been  lifted  and  peace  regained  ! 


28 


REPOSE 

WHAT  is  it  to  smile  if  tears  are  near  ? 
What  is  it  to  stem  the  tide  of  fear  ? 
What  to  trust  with  a  mighty  heart 
Through  distracted  moments?   The  life-taught  art 
Of  self-control !     The  death-taught  art 
Of  repose  ! 


BABY   BOY 

LITTLE  hands  with  strengthening  grip, 
Great  round  eyes  that  shine  ; 

Tender  feet  that  sometimes  trip 
Over  shoes  like  mine. 

Dainty,  fluffy  frocks  and  such, 

Pure  as  a  white  rose  ; 
He  cares  not  for  laces  much  — 

See  that  saucy  nose  ! 

Naught  too  good  for  thee,  small  man  ; 

My  hope  is  this,  my  prayer 
That  your  soul  forever  can 

Spotless  garments  wear. 

29 


GREETINGS 

LINGER  here  a  short  sweet  hour 
Ere  time  resumes  its  mighty  sway, 

And  let  me  make  a  lily  bower 

Wherein  we  can  in  sweet  peace  stay. 

Come  yet  again  —  ah,  now  you  see 
The  rose  of  love  is  blooming  low, 

Then  glances  up  in  ecstasy  — 

Small  wonder  that  it  loves  you  so  ! 

And  now,  once  more,  dear,  turn  this  way  ; 

Look,  I  throw  down  for  your  feet 
A  ring  of  pansies  here  to-day, 

Each  one  a  thought  both  pure  and  sweet. 

Smile,  Love  !     'T  is  sweet  to  fill  such  nooks 
With  fairy  wands  and  festoons  rare  ; 

With  music,  pencilings  and  books 
And  violet  crowns  for  YOU  to  wear. 


A   ZEPHYR 

AH,  SWEET  is  the  will  of  the  breeze  ! 

O  heart  refreshed  to  the  core, 
List  to  the  echo  of  love  in  the  trees  ; 
Brave  little  Cupid  awaits  thee  to  please, 

Faithful  in  love  or  in  war  ! 


TO   A    FRIEND 

O  GENTLE,  kindly  heart,  must  them  again 

Bear  such  a  load  of  agony  and  pain  ? 

The  last  was  that  of  heavy  mental  weight 

And  this  the  pain  of  flesh,  is  nigh  as  great. 

How  well  I  know  the  throbbing,  sick'ning  way 

In  which  the  pain  keeps  on  through  night  and  day. 

How  tenderly  my  heart  goes  out  to  thee 

In  this,  thy  hour  of  grief  and  agony. 


AN   ANGEL  VOICE 

AN  ANGEL  voice  is  falling 
In  accents  sweet  to  hear  ; 

My  soul  aloud  is  calling, 
Stay  thou  ever  near. 

An  angel  voice  is  soaring 
High  to  realms  above, 

From  whence  to  us  is  pouring 
Down  a  flow  of  love. 


LEONA 

THE  day  is  slowly  dying 

Into  a  balmy  night, 
The  birds  to  rest  are  flying 

As  my  love  comes  in  sight. 

The  clover-blossoms,  swaying. 
Whisper  words  of  cheer  ; 

They,  with  me,  are  praying 
For  my  L,eona  dear. 

Nature  seems  to  praise  her, 

Coming  o'er  the  lea, 
And  I,  her  chosen  lover, 

Know  she  comes  to  me. 

The  clover-blossoms  hear  me 
Murmur  soft  and  low  : 

' '  L,e-o-na,  I  adore  thee  ; 
No  other  loves  thee  so  !  " 


LOVE   BLOSSOMS 

WHEN  the  summer  was  young  in  its  sweetness, 
When  bright  blossoms  swayed  on  each  tree, 

Ere  the  fruit  took  its  place  in  completeness, 
Some  blossoms  of  love  grew  for  me. 

I  watched  them  with  care  almost  tender, 
Lest  the  wind  should  drive  them  afar  ; 

The  sunshine  kissed  them  in  splendor 
And  nothing  their  beauty  could  mar. 

They  flourished  in  richest  profusion 

And  glowed  as  they  spread  their  perfume, 

Then  dropped.     Not  without  some  confusion 
Did  their  fading  proclaim  our  love's  doom? 

No,  dear  heart ;  fair  fruit  is  now  growing, 

September  is  with  us  to-day, 
And  love,  in  its  turn,  is  now  showing 

That  its  blossoms  but  paved  a  way. 


JOY 

LIGHT-WINGED  companion  linger  yet  awhile, 
Teach  saddened  faces  how  again  to  smile  ; 
Show  us  a  few  roses,  each  bereft  of  thorn, 
Come  to  us  at  eventide,  come  to  those  who  mourn. 
When  the  sun  is  hidden  by  shadows  dark  and  deep 
Help  us  search  for  sunshine,  lest  we  sit  and  weep  ; 
Throw  a  rose-hued  vapor  over  human  strife, 
Play  a  gladsome  measure  for  the  march  of  life. 


CHORDS 

MY  LIFE  is  aglow  with  a  new  sense  and  light 

Because  of  a  glimpse  of  thy  soul  in  its  might. 

As  pure  as  a  pearl  dost  thou  stand,  far  above 

Nearly  all  others  —  a  life  one  might  love. 

A  hand  in  my  soul  reaches  out  unto  thee, 

A  voice  therein  cries  in  soft  entreaty  : 

"  Give  to  me  some  of  thy  sweetest  and  best, 

Let  thy  soul's  melody »lull  me  to  rest." 

Now  but  the  minor  is  heard,  for  to-day 

The  major,  when  worked  in,  will  finish  the  play 

In  a  glorious,  rapturous  tumult  of  sound 

In  which  heart,  soul  and  senses  abound. 

A  medley  of  heav'n-sent  love-songs  shall  rise, 

And  each  will  find  place  in  our  souls  ere  it  dies. 

So,  on  through  the  ages  we  '11  rove  hand  in  hand, 

To  a  myriad  of  melodies,  lofty — yes,  grand  ! 

34 


REVERIE 

MY  TENDERLY  loved  one,  so  pure  and  white, 

Art  thou  thinking  of  me  this  lonely  night  ? 

Dost  thou  long  to  claim  this  poor  caress 

And  return  it  in  thy  tenderness  ? 

Dost  thou  kiss  me  once  in  spirit  now 

As  I  smooth  in  fancy  thy  broad,  low  brow  ? 

Art  thy  curls,  which  twine  about  my  heart 

As  they  cluster  aside  from  the  snowy  part, 

Where  the  gold  leaves  abruptly  the  tender  white 

And  meets  the  gaze  of  beholders  quite 

Unknown  to  thee  —  a  halo  divine  ? 

There  do  I  kneel  as  does  one  at  a  shrine. 

Darling,  I  bid  thee  good-night.     Sleep  well. 

Thy  thoughts  thou  mayst  keep.    Only  God  can  tell 

The  beauty  and  worth  of  thy  gentle  soul. 

Mortals  like  me  from  pole  to  pole 

Might  travel  and  find  not  one  like  thee, 

So  perfect  in  mind,  heart  and  purity. 

Once  more,  good-night !     God  bless  thee,  dear, 

And  send  His  bright  angels  to  hover  anear  ! 


35 


THE   LEGEND   OF  LAKE  TOLEDO 

LILY   TIME 

FULLY  and  most  graciously  did  sunshine  ever  rest 
Upon  the  glassy  surface  of  Lake  Toledo's  breast ; 
And  softly  there  also  oft'  fell  the  summer  rain 
Gently  to  be  welcomed  —  ne'er  to  leave  again. 
Seldom  was  the  surface  covered  o'er  with  frost ; 
Never  was  its  loveliness  for  one  moment  lost. 
Along  its  banks  in  splendor  on  a  golden  day 
Stood  the  flowing  wildweeds,  hollyhocks  and  gay 
Early  summer  blossoms,  mingling  their  hue 
With  the  sombre  brushwood,  lace- worked  by    the 

dew. 

Thus  in  rustic  beauty  stretched  about  a  mile 
Lake  Toledo's  waters  —  like  a  God-given  smile. 
Near  its  virgin  boundaries  scarce  a  mortal  trod  ; 
Untouched  were  its  beauties,  unbroken  its  sod. 
Grew  the  water-lilies  unmolested  quite, 
Sunny-hearted  lilies  gleaming  in  the  light. 
This  the  spot  where  Rodman,  son  of  Rodman  Tyre, 
Paused  and  stood  still,  gazing  back  on  brush  and 

brier. 

Through  a  very  labyrinth  had  he  found  his  way 
To  the  dainty  Eden  on  this  August  day. 

36 


He,  the  heir  to  woodlands  for  many  miles  about 

Ne'er  had  seen  their  splendor,  oft  had  felt  a  doubt 

That  he  cared  to  visit  land  bereft  of  cheer, 

But  his  love  for  Nature  was  awakened  here. 

With  a  dog  and  rifle,  he,  at  rise  of  sun, 

O'er  his  grounds  had  wandered,  had  his  quest  begun 

For  the   wondrous  lakelet,    by   gran' dames  full    a 

score 

Said  to  be  unearthly.     Nay,  but  they  claimed  more. 
Heard  he  not  their  whispers,  threw  he  them  some 

gold; 

Left  them  to  their  fancies  with  their  tale  untold. 
Standing  now,  he  murmured,  "I  shall  build  near  by; 
Clear  a  space  for  lawn-land  with  this  lakelet  nigh. 
'T  is  a  full  fair  distance  from  the  village  road, 
And  my  stately  bride-elect  shall  have  a  fit  abode. 
Comes  she   with  the  lustre   of  ancient   name   and 

pride  "- 
Here  he  paused  and  whistled  the  hound  unto  his 

side, 

For,  off  upon  the  waters  a  form  drew  slowly  near, 
And  Rodman  stared  in  wonder   at  what   did  now 

appear 

To  be  a  living  person  on  a  tiny  raft  afloat, 
While  else  upon  the  water  was  neither  sail  nor  boat. 
On,   nearer   came  the   object ;    ashore  the   faithful 

hound 
Gave  evidence  of  noting  with  many  a  yap  and  bound; 

37 

402637 


Strange  it  seemed  to  Rodman,  the  dog  was  all  de 
light, 

Clamoring  most  gladly  as  the  raft  came  into  sight. 
Ah,   't  was  a   beauteous  vision    that   slowly  drew 

anigh, — 

As  fair  and  dainty  a  maiden  as  ever  heaved  a  sigh, — 
For  know  ye  not,  kind  hearer,  that  sighs  ever  await 
Each  sweet  and  gentle  maiden  as  portions  of  her 

fate? 
"  Neptune  ;  hi  there,  Neptune  !  "  rang  out  in  girlish 

tone, 
And  Rodman  seized  the  canine  that  it  might  not 

alone 

Claim  the  maiden's  greeting,  but  with  dog-like  grace 
Introduce  the  trespasser  in  this,  her  native  place. 
Yet  with  all  care  he  could  not  silence  Neptune's  bliss; 
The  short,  sudden  bark  rang  out  —  nor  did  it  ring 

amiss. 
"  Over  there  !  "  the  maiden  cried  ;   "  wait,  I  '11  come 

to  thee." 
And  there  in  silence  Rodman  mused,    "  She  comes 

to  me." 
Then  up  against  the  flowery  bank  she  ran  the  dainty 

craft, 
And  with  one  wrench  and  mighty  spring  Neptune 

was  on  the  raft. 
In  frightened  tone  did  Rodman  cry,  a  tone  almost 

pretense, 


"Here,  Neptune,  here;  down,  I  say,  where  is  thy 

dog  sense  ? 
Thy  pardon,   lady,    do    I   now  in   humblest    spirit 

crave  ; 

I  fancy  that  my  gunning  dog  imagined  he  must  save 
Thee  from  this  peaceful  water,   in  case   that   thou 

shouldst  fall." 

Right  gaily  said  the  maiden  —  nor  timidly  at  all, 
"O  pray  sir,   waive    excuses  for  Neptune's   good 

intent ; 
Well  I  know  his  nature  and  what  my  dog-friend 

meant." 

Then  leaped  she,  O  so  lightly,  up  unto  the  bank, 
While  Neptune  moved  caressingly,  as  if  indeed  to 

thank 
Her  for  her  gracious  coming,  and  pleading  that  she 

stay 
With  mute  but  earnest  longing  in  his  glance  and 

way. 
Gazed  she  then  at  Rodman,  naught  showed  she  of 

art  — 

"  Ownst  thou  my  Neptune?     Only  then,  in  part, 
He  has  known  no  will  but  mine  for  well-nigh  a  year. 
Many  are  the  meetings  we  have  had  just  here." 
"  Happy  dog,"  said  Rodman,  with  a  gentle  smile. 
"  May  not,  then,  his  master  linger  here  awhile?  " 
"Nay,  in  truth  why  ask  me?"     Then  amazement 

dire 
Covered  her  fair  features.  '  'Art  thou  Rodman  Tyre  ? ' ' 

39 


"  Yes,  O  sweetest  maiden  ;  I  am  surely  he. 
Tell  me  now,  in  kindness,  who  it  is  I  see 
Honoring  my  woodland  like  a  fairy  sprite 
Floating  o'er  the  lakelet,  lending  it  new  light 
With  thy  wondrous  tresses  shining  like  to  gold  ? 
Answer,  fairest  maiden,  or  am  I  too  bold  ?  " 
"  Then  thou  art  the  owner  of  my  lakelet,  too, 
Where  for  hours  I  linger,  having  naught  to  do. 
It  has  been  my  refuge,  when  in  silent  tears 
I  might  oft  have  languished  all  these  lonely  years. 
Well  I  love  these  waters, —  they  seem  like  home  to 

me, — 

Finding  on  their  surface  sweet  tranquility. 
I  know  only  old  folks,  sad  and  stern  of  will  — 
Here  I  have  my  freedom,  tho'  the  place  is  still  ; 
E'en  the  silence  whispers  of  all  joy  to  be, 
And  the  birds  seem  chirping  wondrous  tales  to  me." 
Dreamy  grew  the  maiden,  Rodman  gazed  his  fill, 
Asked  her  no  more  questions,  scarcely  breathed  until 
Woke  she  from  her  day  dream,  then  he  murmured 

low  : 

"  Queen  of  Lake  Toledo  crown  I  thee,  and  so 
Now  I  beg  thee  use  thy  sceptre  and  thy  crown, 
And  in  truest  homage  do  I  bow  me  down." 
Frankly  laughed  the  maiden,  "  Then  there  will  be 

peace, 

And  thou  mayst  know  me  by  my  name  — Janice." 
Scarce  had  eighteen  summers  passed  her  sunny  head, 
Gentle  were  her  manners,  gently  was  she  bred  ; 

40 


But  her  every  gesture  held  an  untrained  charm  — 
Childlike  was  her  freshness,  unaware  of  harm. 
As  she  rose  to  leave  him,  Rodman  turned  also  — 
"  May  I  not  the  legend  of  Lake  Toledo  know  ?  " 
Asked  he  in  tone  persuasive,  and  her  flower-like  face 
Flushed  with  eager  pleasure  as  she  moved  with  grace. 
"  'T  is  a  sad,  sweet  story,  and  almost  too  long 
For  our  waning  morning.      I  will  sing  the  song- 
Taken  from  its  meaning,  then  another  time 
Will  I  tell  the  legend  of  great  love  and  crime." 
Then  she  sang  quite  softly  in  a  girlish  key, 
Thus  :  —  and  all  the  birdlings  chorused  merril)-. 

"  '  Lake  Toledo's  flowering  shore, 

Where  grows  the  sweet  wild  rose, 
Lonely  is  ;  must  always  more 

Be  lonely  as  time  goes. 
A  saddened  maid  with  golden  hair 

Was  with  the  lilies  wed  ; 
Stifled  they  her  wild  despair 

In  their  swaying  bed. 
Snowy  white  the  lilies  seemed, 

Nor  yellow  hearts  had  they 
'Til  her  loosened  tresses  gleamcAd 

O'er  their  hearts  that  day. 
Died  the  gentle  maid  of  old 

On  Lake  Toledo's  breast, — 
The  lilies  wear  her  tresses'  gold 

Her  purity  attest.'  ' 

41 


As  the  last  note  died  away  Rodman  smiled  his  praise, 
And  he  begged  a  promise,  ere  they  went  their  ways, 
That  Janice  should  come  again  to  the  lakelet's  shore; 
Tell  to  him  the  wondrous  tale  of  the  grandame's  lore. 
Many  were  the  meetings,  full  many,  too,  the  smiles, 
Until  rosy  blushes  burned  to  greet  his  wiles. 
Rodman's  voice  was  music,  and  with  manly  grace 
Charmed  he  with  his   presence,  to  the  maid,   this 

place. 

Man  of  worldly  pleasure,  well  he  knew  his  art, 
And  without  e'en  trying  gained  he  that  pure  heart. 
Troubled  were  the  fancies  now  within  his  brain  ; 
Wrestled  he  with  memory,  but  it  was  in  vain  ; 
Further  e'er  receded  the  thought  of  pomp  and  power 
That  came  with  his  betrothed  and  her  queenly  dower. 
Easily  he  'd  won  her  though  many  suitors  thronged. 
Remember  or  forget  her,  either  way  he  wronged 
Deeply  a  fair  woman,  one  a  damsel  proud, 
With  coquettish  graces  handsomely  endowed  ; 
Or  a  childlike  maiden  like  a  dainty  flower 
Found  by  fate  awaiting  first  love's  witching  hour. 
Could  he  break  his  promise  ?    Xay,  nor  yet  increase 
The  danger  of  so  doing  by  lingering  near  Janice. 

GOLDEN-ROD   TIMK 

When  golden-rod  was  waving  and  cloudless  was  the 

sky, 
Sadder  grew  a  lovely  face  as  the  days  dragged  by; 

42 


Lake  Toledo  murmured  to  the  anguished  moan 
Of  the  lonely  maiden  —  Rodman  Tyre  had  flown. 
Bowed  he  where,  in  satin  worked  with  silver  thread, 
Stood  his  proud  Normania,  and  her  haughty  head 
With  its  raven  tresses  bent  before  his  gaze  - 
Well  did  she  know  better  than  to  blame  his  ways. 
Not  with  frowns  nor  speeches  did  this  wise  coquette 
Ask  him  where  he  'd  lingered,  lest  he  should  regret 
The  loss  of  some  distraction  prized  by  him  afar  — 
This  her  time  of  triumph,  she  his  leading  star. 
So  with  all  the  power  of  her  dazzling  smile 
Did  she  from  his  musing  mood  his  thoughts  beguile  ; 
Spoke  he  of  the  mansion  near  the  flowering  lake, 
Well  was  she  contented  there  her  home  to  make. 
Thus  the  flow' rets  faded  on  Lake  Toledo's  shore, 
And  the  tardy  winter  with  frost-work  spread  it  o'er. 
Anear  the  shining  waters  a  stately  mansion  rose, 
Throwing  its  vast  shadows  to  where  the  brooklet 

flows. 

And  when  April  hastened  to  bring  her  joys  to  earth, 
When  bursting  leaflets  clustered  and  Springtime  had 

her  birth 
A  pair  of  dashing  horses  drew  through  the  village 

road 

The  stately  mansion's  mistress  unto  her  new  abode. 
There  upon    the  threshhold  paused  the   beauteous 

bride, 
Then  moved  she  like  a  princess  —  with  Rodman  at 

her  side. 

43 


LILY    TIME 

A  graceful,  slender  figure  crouched  beneath  the  moon, 
And  a  silvery  voice  was  praying  for  death  as  for  a 

boon  ; 

But  the  higher,  better  nature  of  Janice,  pure  and  fair, 
Prevailed ;    in    all   the    mad'ning    throes   of  love's 

despair 

Prayed  she  that  all  gladness  should  with  him  abide 
Who  had  herself  discarded  when  wooing  his  proud 

bride. 
While  angels  wept  with  pity,  gently  crowning  her 

above, 

The  tender  girl  rose  calmly  in  the  chastity  of  love. 
Not  for  her  was  the  fulfilment  of  Nature's  leading 

law, — 
She  was  abnegation's  creature  —  one  for  reverential 

awe. 
Up  she  stood,  a  wondrous  radiance  spreading  from 

her  chin  to  brow, 
And  that  naught  of  envy  should  o'erpower  her  did 

she  vow. 
Came  she   now  unto  the  lilies  in  the  duskiness  of 

night, 

Faithful  Neptune  meeting  her  in  a  rapture  of  delight, 
And  he  hovered  near  the  maiden,  knowing  not  her 

need  of  cheer  — 
So  she  sat  beside  the  water,   thinking  none  would 

wander  near. 

44 


Music  gay  and  merry  laughter  sometimes  floated  o'er 

the  lawn  ; 
Then  the  silent  maid  would  shudder  e'en  as  does  a 

frightened  fawn. 

GOLDEN-ROD   TIME 

When  one  eve  beside  the  lakelet  rested  she  without 

the  hound 
Janice  was  most  deeply  startled  by  the  very  near-by 

sound 
Of  voices  —  two  in  number  —  one  a  mellow,  heavy 

bass, 
Answered  by  a  woman's  laughter,  as,  at  quick  and 

hurried  pace, 

Two  persons,  richly  clad,  burst  into  her  sight 
Where  she  could  not  hope  to  pass  them, —  and  in 

this  sorry  plight 

Janice  paused.     The  lovers  tarried,  listened,  stand 
ing  still ; 
When  up  they  spoke — Janice  hearing,  much  against 

her  will. 
The  woman  —  such  a   creature  once  seen  is  ne'er 

forgot, 
For  such  beauty  could  but  rarely  fall  unto  a  woman's 

lot. 
Ah,  too  well  knew  the  maiden  that  most  regal  face 

and  head, 
'T  was   indeed   the   proud    Normania — she   whom 

Rodman  Tyre  had  wed  ! 

45 


A  gallant  stood  beside  her,  a  foreigner  by  look, 
Seeking  for  a  mossy  seat  in  the  silent,  fragrant  nook. 
Swore  he  that  he  loved  her  well  ;  spoke  she  not  a 

word. 

Marble-white  she  gazed  ahead  as  his  vows  she  heard. 
Now  the  moon,  released  from  cloud,  shone  without 

alloy, 

And  her  face  became  illumined  with  a  sudden  joy; 
But  beside  the  silent  water,  terror  sank  into  her  heart, 
For  she  feared  her  ardent  lover,  and  she  failed  to 

play  her  part. 

Now  the  hastening  footsteps,  coming  fast  and  free, 
Was  the  tread  of  Rodman,  and  most  piercingly 
Cried  his  bride,    "Oh,  Rodman,  save  me,  if  you  can, 
From  these  hideous  waters  and  this  frenzied  man  !  " 
With  a  spring  did  Rodman  through  the  bushes  dash; 
But  that  self-same  instant  saw  a  bullet  crash 
Through  his  noble  forehead.     Fell  he  on  his  side, 
And  his  mean  assassin  hastened  far  to  ride. 
Stood  the  proud  Normania  as  if  turned  to  stone, 
Moving  not  a  muscle,  making  not  a  moan  ; 
From  the  thicket  Janice  gently  drew  anigh, 
Gazed  at  Normania,  then  with  a  low  cry 
Bent  o'er  the  body,  kissed  the  white,  dead  face  ; 
Forgotten  was  injustice,    the  bride,    the   hour,   the 

place ; 

'Till  she  was  most  rudely,  with  ungentle  hand, 
Thrust  aside  and  threatened:   "Girl,  thou  'It  bear 

the  brand 

46 


Of  being  Rodman's  murderess.     Thus  I  '11  shield  his 

name, — 

Covering  up  the  scandal,  for  my  name's  the  same. 
I  am,  girl,  the  wedded  wife  of  Rodman  here. 
Be  thou  his  destroyer  !     Though  I  greatly  fear 
From  thy  raving  actions,  maiden  at  his  side, 
That  thou  wouldst  have  willingly  been  his  loving 

bride." 

Answered  not  sweet  Janice.     Madame  moved  away, 
And  when  she  reached  the  mansion  her  face  was 

ashen  gray . 


The  search  was  unavailing  for  the  one  accused, 
Though  the  family  of  Normania  wealth  and  cunning 

used. 

Then  came  Rodman's  cousin,  next  in  line  was  he ; 
Karl  his  name,  his  nature  fine  to  a  degree. 
Pitied  he  the  maiden  who  afar  had  flown 
Without  a  fair  trial ;  of  whose  lot  so  lone 
Heard  he  many  rumors,  heard  he  many  a  sigh 
From  the  faithful  township.     Ere  a  month  went  by 
Madame  Tyre  departed  from  the  halls  and  towers 
Of  the  stately  mansion  with  its  lawns  and  bowers. 
Days  of  gloom  were  followed  for  the  kindly  Karl 
By  days  of  keen  inquiry,  smoothing  out  the  snarl 
Of  the  most  mysterious  flight  of  the  fair  Janice, 
And  as  he  paced  his  garden  his  wonder  but  increased. 


47 


LILY   TIME 

As  once  the    twilight   gathered   its   dusky   mantle 

'round, 

"Karl  of  Tyre"  was  walking  with  his  hunting  hound 
Neptune,  whose  late  owner,  Rodman,  lay  so  still 
In  his  grave  off  yonder  on  summit  of  the  hill ; 
Neptune,  who  had  ever  with  loving,  great  brown  eyes 
Regarded  the  sweet  Janice  as  his  lady  and  his  prize. 
Now  with  his  new  owner  the  dog  was  most  sedate, 
Sharing  all  the  rambles  that  Karl  took  oft  and  late. 
On  a  balmy  evening,  't  was  in  bright  July — 
Since  the  tragic  shooting  some  months  had  passed  by — 
Man  and  dog  were  walking  near  Toledo  Lake. 
Of  a  sudden  Neptune's  form  commenced  to  shake, 
And,  with  ghastly  meaning,  uttered  he  a  howl 
'Spite  of  Karl's  upbraiding  or  his  angry  scowl. 
Then  the  powerful  creature  dashed  into  the  lake 
And  as  with  all  fervor  tried  his  way  to  make 
To  the  swaying  lilies  —  Karl  with  flying  feet 
Followed  the  embankment ;  what  a  sight  to  greet ! 
His  staring  eyes  protruded,  for  there  upon  a  raft 
Floating  'midst  the  lilies  a  maiden  sat  and  laughed— 
Laughed  with  that  shrill  horror  that   is  bereft   of 

sense. 

Came  she  there  in  madness  ;  wished  not  to  go  hence. 
But  when  faithful  Neptune  reached  his  much-loved 

maid 
She  gazed  at  him  in  rapture  —  burst  into  tirade  ; 

48 


Fondled  she  her  comrade,  bending  o'er  his  head, 
Then  in  clearest  music  she  half  sung,  half  said  : 

'  Lake  Toledo's  flowering  shore, 

Where  grows  the  sweet  wild  rose, 
Lonely  is  ;  must  always  more 

Be  lonely  as  time  goes. 
A  saddened  maid  with  golden  hair 

Was  to  the  lilies  wed, 
Stifled  they  her  wild  despair  — 

Wild  despair  —  wild  de-spair  ! ' 

As  the  sad  cry  issued  from  those  cold,  pale  lips 
A  chill  passed  o'er  the  hearer  from  head  to  finger 
tips, 

And  that  dainty  figure,  arms  outstretched,  bent  o'^er 
The  darkly-rippling  water  and  lily  blooms  galore  ; 
Faced  she  once  the  heavens,  then  without  a  sigh 
Fell  slowly  backward,  as  if  't  were  sweet  to  die. 
In  that  selfsame  moment  changed  was  the  scene, 
For  with  a  bark  of  anguish  Neptune  plunged  between 
The  slender  life  of  Janice  and  her  endless  rest  — 
'Midst  the  tangled  lilies  strove  to  do  his  best. 
Then  a  ringing  cry  of  cheer  filled  the  darkening  place, 
And  a  willing,  manly  form  swam  towards  a  face 
Which,  like  shining  marble  or  a  fallen  star, 
Gleamed  among  the  lilies,  while  anear  and  far 
O'er  their  snowy  petals,  twining  here  and  there, 
Were  the  pale-gold  tendrils  of  her  loosened  hair. 

49 


With  a  mighty  effort  Karl  the  raft  secured, 

And  the  maid  and  Neptune  soon  were  safely  moored. 

Karl  the  fainting  maiden  carried  from  the  lake 

To  the  statel}r  mansion,  there  to  undertake 

Her  resuscitation,  with  the  help  of  one 

Who  ordered  his  good   living  —  kind-hearted   Mrs. 

Dunn. 

How  that  homely  creature  o'er  the  maiden  cried. 
Saying  to  the  master  :   "  O  sir,  had  she  died 
I  'd  a  been  most  wretched,  and  now,  since  she  's  found. 
Must  I  speak  out  truly,  spread  the  news  around  ? 
This  sweet  little  maiden,  known  as  fair  Janice, 
Could  have  died  to-night,  sir,  in  purity  and  peace. 
Sir,  her  soul  is  whiter  than  even  is  her  brow, 
Tho'  I  said  it  never  until  you  hear  me  now  ; 
For,  thought  I,  the  master  lying  cold  and  dead 
Would  not  wish  a  whisper  'gainst  the  one  he  wed,— 
Madame  Tyre, —  nor  do  I  blame  her  even  yet  ; 
Still,    I    can    swear   this   maiden    hath    nothing   to 

regret. ' ' 

Karl,  who  now  stood  gazing  in  pity  most  profound 
Upon  the  form  of  Janice,  with  its  scattered  locks 

around, 

Heaved  a  sigh  of  pleasure.    Feelings  strange  and  new 
Mingled  w'ith  his  planning  what  he  had  best  do, 
And  his  noble  features  lightened  with  a  smile. 
Said  he  :   "  Thank  thee,  madame ;  care  for  her  awhile, 
Let  her  use  this  mansion  as  her  very  own. 
Teach  her  smiles  and  laughter,  not  to  weep  alone. 


I  go  hence  this  hour,  and  will  learn  the  mode 
Of  my  cousin's  slaying  near  his  own  abode. 
I  will  know  the  story  of  this  maiden's  flight  ; 
I  will  turn,  in  justice,  her  great  wrong  to  right ; 
Then  will  I  come  hither.     Till  I  return 
Guard  yon  tender  maiden,  that  thou  mayst  earn 
My  high  appreciation.     Show  her  all  esteem." 
Then  bowed  Madame  lowly.    •  'Ah,  sir,  it  would  seem 
Thounam'st  a  gentle  duty,  all  honor  here  at  'Tyre ' 
Shall  be  shown  the  gracious  lady  whose  sufferings 

were  dire." 

"  Farewell,"  said  Karl  softly,  turning  round  to  go. 
Hark,  was  it  only  fancy  that  feebly  said  "  Ah,  no  !  " 


LILY   TIME 

When  lily  blooms  were  starting  again  to  show  in  bud, 
All  glowing  was  the  freshness,  the  lake  was  at  its 

flood  ; 
The  clam 'ring  robin  red-breasts,  alert  to  food  and 

sound, 

A  fair  and  beauteous  refuge  anear  the  lakelet  found. 
At  length  unto  the  mansion  rode  its  master  proud  ; 
No  gloom  upon  his  countenance,  his  head  erect,  not 

bowed. 

Within  his  heart  was  singing  a  score  of  merry  birds 
And  the  softness  of  the  Springtime  was  in  his  looks 

and  words. 


Hasten  now  and  list  ye,  what  murmurs  he  so  low  ? 
"  May  all  the  richest  blessings  unto  my  darling  flow. 
My  pure  and  perfect  lily,  so  bent  with  sore  distress, 
Shall  live  to  smile  in  radiance  of  love  and  tenderness." 
On  rode  the  noble   Karl   through   driveway  newly 

green, 

And  the  shimmering  moonbeams  shyly  glanced  be 
tween 
The  bending  boughs  of  sturdy  trees  that  lined  the 

entrance  lane. 
But  moonbeams  are  so  silent  and  Karl,  I  grant,  would 

fain 

Hear  a  cheery  welcome,  so  hurried  on  his  steed  ; 
That  all  was  well,  he  hoped — and  then  his  suit  to 

plead. 

Clad  in  white  within  the  hall  stood  the  lily  maid ; 
Turneth  she  away  in  haste.     What  !  is  she  afraid  ? 
Strideth  Karl  onto  her  side  :   "  Maiden,  is  it  thee 
All  rosy,  smiling,  dimpled,  the  maid  once  sad  to  see  — 
The  lily  maid  whose  waxen  face  was  one  to  view 

with  dread, 
Who  rode  I  fast  and  rode  I  far  to  reach  lest  she  be 

dead? 
My  dainty  darling,  see,   I  kneel  before  thy  tender 

grace. 

If  thou  art  cruel,  lily  maid,  thou  dost  belie  thy  face  !  " 
O  shyly  and  so  winsomely  gazed  she  in  his  eyes, 
That  her  own  seemed  superhuman,  of  a  wondrous 

size. 

52 


"  Dear  one  " — she  spoke  softly  ;  her  voice  could  al 
most  seem 

Alike  the  ripples  from  a  leaf  just  fallen  upon  a  stream — 
' '  Know  I  now  that  none  like  thee  is  left  above  the 

ground, 
And  that  never  maiden  nobler  man  on  earth  hath 

found. 

My  sad  love  seerneth  distant,  and  as  if  it  could  but  be 
A  foreshadowing  of  this  rapture,  of  this  glow  I  feel 
for  thee." 

When  the  lilies  in  the  splendor  of  their  white  and 

golden  pride 

Lifted  up  their  sunlit  faces,  Janice  was  a  bride. 
Well  she  loves  the  brushwood  glist'ning  with  its  dust 

of  early  dew, 
And  the  morning  glories  clustering  in  their  richest 

purple  blue. 
Unmolested  are  the  lilies,  gleaming  their  sweet  lives 

away  ; 
Nature  is  their  only  mistress  —  here  she  reigns  in 

beauteous  sway. 


FLORENCE 

FLORENCE,  Queen  of  the  kingdom  "Mind" 
In  Fancy's  birthplace  !     Queen  of  Love, 

Of  all  Earth's  joy- 
Lift  me  with  thy  gracious,  kind, 
And  loving  smile  to  heights  above 
Things  that  annoy. 

Lower  now  thy  tend' rest  voice 
To  cadence  fitted  to  our  dreams 

Our  coupled  hearts. 
Bend  thy  golden  head  by  choice 

And  let  me  see  thy  sweet  eye-beams 
From  whence  truth  starts. 

Say  thou  e'en  so  small  a  word, 
'T  will  find  with  me  its  place 

And  there  abide. 

Not  a  leaf  nor  grass  blade  stirred, 
Not  a  zephyr  raised  thy  lace 
When  by  my  side 

That  I  was  not  aware  of,  Florenchen, 

So  fair  the  hour  and  sweet  with  thee  anear, 

In  reach  of  hand. 
Depart  so  soon  ?     Dost  thou  know  then 

Thou  'st  dropped  the  rose,  once  to  thee  dear, 
On  the  gray  sand  ? 


54 


O   FOLLOW   ME 

O  FOR  the  sight  of  the  rolling  sea 

As  merrily 

The  waves  agree 

That  joy  is  joy,  and  love  and  glee 

Shall  follow  me. 

There  where  the  salty  breezes  blow, 

The  winter  snow 

Must  melt  and  go. 

The  sun-kissed  wavelets  will  it  so, 

For  they  the  joy  of  love  well  know. 

There  o'er  the  glorious  unrest 

Of  the  grand  old  ocean's  heaving  breast, 

All  that  's  best 

Of  things  confessed 

Comes  to  us  bv  the  seas'  hehest. 


AT   SEVEN 

MY  LOVE  comes  to  me  at  seven, 

When  the  day  and  the  evening  meet ; 

And  there  's  naught  'twixt  this  and  heaven 
That  life  holds,  half  so  sweet. 

55 


NOW   THE    DAY    IS   OVER" 


By  the  sea  I  paused  when  the  twilight 
Was  tenderly  nearing  the  scene, 

When  transcendent  thoughts,  engrossing, 
Placed  'twixt  nature  and  soul  a  screen. 

The  sea  made  its  evening  endeavor 
To  deepen  its  richness  of  hue  ; 

From  the  sparkling  rise  of  the  water 
The  fall  of  it  seemed  the  more  blue. 

As  I  rested,  a  change  swept  my  musings  — 

A  feeling  of  sanctity  glowed 
O'er  my  spirit.     I  gazed  at  the  cloudlets  — 

Like  aerial  lakelets  they  flowed. 

Anear  me  the  scene  was  so  silent 

That  the  rhythmical  sound  of  the  sea 

Seemed  throbbing  with  prayer;  its  motion 
Was  one  with  the  longing  in  me. 

Then  I  heard  the  tones  of  an  organ 
From  the  heart  of  a  church  nearby  ; 

'T  was  the  even  praytr.     Hark,  singing  ! 
"  Night  is  drawing  nigh." 

56 


That  tenderly-exquisite  hymn-tune 
Of  eventide  swelled  on  the  air, 

Till  my  life  was  engulfed,  re-awakened, 
As  I  paused  on  the  soft  sand  there. 


RHAPSODY 

MY  LOVE,  these  senses  are  rocked  in  bliss 
And  vibrate  to  thy  gentle  touch. 

Part  of  a  life  was  spent  waiting  for  this  — 
All  else  seems  little,  this  much. 

See,  I  bend  low  to  kiss  thy  sweet  hand  — 

No,  love,  't  is  not  too  low  ; 
For  the  finger-tips  pressing  mine  form  a  band 

For  a  bunch  of  heart  blessings,  you  know. 

Hush,  darling  ;  a  moment  wait ;  be  still. 

Let  our  old  Father  Time  pass  by 
And  catch  us  having  our  own  sweet  will 

In  Love's  golden  trance,  you  and  I. 

He  '11  carry  the  memory,  and  carry  it  well, 
But  not,  love,  from  you  nor  from  me  ; 

For  I  know  that  in  our  minds  it  will  dwell 
In  all  time  which  is  yet  to  be. 


IMPROMPTU 

HAVE  you  seen  a  great  star  gleaming 

Afar  in  the  midnight  sky 
One  night?    Did  the  next,  tho'  fair  seeming, 

Feel  dark  with  that  star  not  nigh  ? 

Have  you  lived  in  a  dream  of  sunshine 

And  wakened  to  find  it  drear, 
Your  empty  fingers  to  intertwine  ? 

Did  you  note  that  dovvncoursing  tear  ? 

Can  you  feel  these  tumultous  heart-throbs  ? 

Can  you  read  the  depths  of  a  soul  ? 
Will  you  help  to  lessen  one  life's  sobs 

And  make  it  sweet  and  whole  ? 


FAME 

A  MAID  set  out  to  climb  the  mount  of  fame. 

Years  passed  —  she  reached  the  summit.      Now  her 

name 

Rings  out  with  plaudits  from  the  crowd  below. 
But  there  she  stands  in  age's  winter  snow 
Alone  !     Too  tired  to  listen,  or  to  smile,  or  hear. 
What  glistens  on  her  face  ?     A  lonely  tear. 

58 


ONE   GRIEF 

A    SONG 

ONLY  one  grief,  but  deeper 
Than  ever  was  grief  before. 

Only  some  tears,  but  tears,  love, 
Often  have  fallen  of  yore  — 
These  but  a  few  tears  more. 

Naught  but  a  heart  left  bleeding, 
Sadder  than  words  can  say  ; 

'T  was  but  a  word  unspoken 
Caused  joy  to  die  to-day  — 
To  languish  and  fade  away. 

All  of  a  life's  deep  glory 
Banished.     For  all  is  o'er  ; 

Dark  is  the  rosy  pathway 
Trodden  in  joy  of  yore  — 
Darkened  forever  more. 


59 


A   YEAR   AGO 

A  YEAR  ago,  when  the  spring  was  young, 
Ere  the  leaves  took  on  their  green, 

I  picked  thee  out  the  crowds  among  — 
May  naught  e'er  come  between  ! 

The  months  each  grew  more  fragrant 
With  the  flowers  born  of  May  ; 

My  heart  became  a  vagrant 
As  't  was  softly  stolen  away  ! 
The  flowers  were  fair  that  May 
When  my  heart  was  stolen  away  ! 

My  love  with  autumn  did  not  pine, 

For  when  the  summer  fled 
The  warmth  of  love,  with  its  sunshine, 

Filled  the  place  instead  ! 
And  in  the  garden  of  my  heart 

There  lives  and  blooms  for  thee 
The  rose  of  love,  set  off,  apart, 

In  pride  and  purity  ! 
The  flowers  were  fair  that  May 
When  my  heart  was  stolen  away  ! 


60 


MRS.  BROWNIE 

BROWNIE  has  built  a  charming  nest 

In  the  old  elm  tree  to-day, 
And  therein  tucked  his  own  heart's  best  — 

Mrs.  Brownie  from  over  the  way. 

They  are  not  stout  brownies  with  great  huge*eyes> 
Wearing  slippers  with  long-curved  toes  ; 

Their  tiny  feet  would  have  a  surprise, 
For  of  slippers  neither  one  knows. 

Mr.  Brownie  is  just  a  sparrow  bird 

With  a  warm  little  heart  indeed, 
And  Mrs.  Brownie,  I  've  often  heard, 

Does  a  happy  and  joyful  life  lead. 


TEARS 

WEEP,  such  tears  are  pure  and  holy  ; 

Sinking  down  in  mossy  sod 
Toward  a  form  now  still  and  lowly, 

Whence  a  soul  has  flown  to  God. 

Weep,  for  tears  are  words  for  feeling. 

Eyes  will  ache  for  want  of  sleep  ; 
Hearts,  when  sore,  are  slow  of  healing. 

Blessed  indeed  are  those  who  weep. 

61 


JANICE 

O  SWKET  Janice,  canst  thou  be  dead  ? 
Yes.  still  thy  heart  and  calm  instead 
Of  smiling  lay  those  curved  lips. 

Breath  has  flown  ! 

Was  the  soul-light,  then,  in  thy  sweet  eyes 
A  tender  spark  from  other  skies  ? 
That  gentle  touch  of  finger-tips 

A  touch  of  Heaven's  own  ? 
The  others  linger  o'er  thy  name, 
Or  pause  they  uttering  the  same 

E'en  in  hushed  tone. 
But  I  stand  gazing  on  thy  brow, 
Murmuring  ever  —  always  now, 

Eternally  alone. 
Janice  !  sweet,  sweet  Janice  ! 
My  spirit-love  —  purity,  peace  ! 

Janice  !     Janice  ! 


CLOUDS 

WHEN  the  heavy  clouds  all  bend 

Darkest  overhead, 
Then,  indeed,  does  fate  intend 

To  send  new  light  instead. 

62 


PURE  JOY 

THERE  's  a  trill  of  pure  joy  in  the  song  of  to-day. 

Of  the  golden-winged  bird  as  he  sings  his  lay  ; 

And  he  glances  aloft,  perhaps  to  see 

Where  the  home  of  so  much  sunshine  can  be. 

Then  down  to  the  garden  his  glances  stray 

To  gaze  at  the  rose-buds.    He  thinks  they  will  stay, 

And  does  not  know  that  on  some  fair  eve 

They  will  wither  away  ;  nor  does  he  believe 

That  hearts  can  be  cruel,  or  thoughts  unkind,— 

Only  love  and  joy  can  the  sweet  bird  find. 


FRIENDSHIP 

WERE  I  lost  in  clouds  of  doubt, 

Hazy  dreams,  or  fear, 
Thy  sweet  eyes  could  lead  me  out 

With  a  glance  or  tear. 

Were  I  lonely  with  my  soul, 

Engrossed  in  a  prayer, 
I  should  not  think  it  quite  whole 

Were  thv  name  not  there. 


THY   vSTAR    A    CROWN 

A  SOFT  voice  came  to  my  soul  to  say  : 

"  Go  forth  in  the  world  afar  ; 
Thou  'It  find  pure  joy  upon  the  way 

And  high  shall  mount  thy  star. 

Then  to  the  lowly  thou  wilt  bend 

A  hand  with  loving  care, 
And  little  children  thou  wilt  send 

To  gather  garlands  lair. 

Then  turn  their  thoughts  to  heaven  above 

By  teaching  them  to  know 
That  o'er  them  reigns  the  God  of  Love, 

Who  yearns  to  love  them  so. 

Later,  when  thy  work  's  all  o'er. 

Thy  star  shall  lead  the  way 
Unto  the  widely-open  door 

Where  angels  fair  will  say  : 

Thy  star  a  shining  crown  shall  be. 

Listen  that  ye  may  know. 
Here,  above,  were  heard  for  thee 

All  prayers  ye  taught  below.'  ' 


64 


HIS   MEANING 

'T  WAS  not  the  wish  to  disturb  thee  so 
That  prompted  those  letters  of  mine. 

'T  was  merely  the  wondering  whether  or  no 
I  might  have  in  return  some  of  thine. 

'T  was  not  the  desire  to  tire  thee  out 

That  sent  me  to  sit  by  thy  side. 
'T  was  only  to  kill  the  painful  doubt 

That  thy  fondness  could  not  abide. 

And  the  reason  I  looked  into  thine  eyes 

All  too  often  was,  sweet,  to  see 
If  some  of  the  love  that  within  me  would  rise, 

Could  not  be  transmitted  to  thee. 

Thou  failed  to  see  the  wherefore  that  I 
Should  linger.     Thou  bad' st  me  go; 

But  thou  could  not  believe  that  the  reason  why 
Was  —  because  I  loved  thee  so. 

My  letters,  words  and  visits  appear 
To  have  worried  thee,  sweet,  at  last. 

I  wonder  will  thou  e'er  miss  them,  dear, 
When  they  become  things  of  the  past. 


THE   WILD   ROSE   BLUSHES 

EACH  tiny  grass-blade  is  waving  about 

In  an  ecstasy  'neath  my  eyes, 
And  the  wild  rose  blushes  without  a  doubt 

With  love  and  sweet  surprise. 
The  clover  is  hanging  its  dainty  head 

All  filled  with  a  burden  of  dew, 
And  the  wide-awake  robin  is  watching  instead 

Of  singing  —  while  waiting  for  you. 

The  daisies  which  grew  near  the  border  tree 

Faded  away,  you  must  know, 
Longing  to  see  your  face  so  fair. 

Ah,  why  did  you  grieve  them  so? 
But  now  you  are  coming.     Ring,  lily  bells  ' 

To  sadness  and  grief  bid  adieu. 
Oh  what  joy  in  my  yearning  heart  dwells. 

As  I  listen  and  wait,  love,  for  you  ! 


HADST   THOU   BEEN  THERE 

THE  skies  were  dark, 
For  the  sandy  shore 

Was  bereft  of  the  mark 
Of  one  step  more. 

66 


The  sea  was  rough, 
So  wild  with  despair, 

And  with  reason  enough  - 
Thou  wert  not  near. 

The  skies  would  have  smiled 
In  the  sun's  warm  glare, 

And  the  sea  'd  have  been  mild 
Hadst  thou  been  there. 


DISCONTENT 

THE  sky  and  ocean  had  never  met  — 
They  had  much  to  conceal,  much  to  regret 
And  with  every  heave  the  surging  tide 
Endeavored  to  reach  the  heavens  so  wide. 
Why  should  the  clouds  so  restless  be  ? 
They  tried  to  reach  the  far-distant  sea. 
Days  dawned,  then  silently  slipped  away  ; 
The  ocean  moaned  and  slashed  its  spray. 
The  heavens  smiled,  then  wept  again 
In  discontent  with  earth  and  men  ; 
The  waves  caressed  and  begged  the  shore 
To  come  and  join  them  more  and  more  ; 
But  on  beyond,  in  mighty  power, 
God  ruled  the  struggle  hour  by  hour  ! 

67 


LULLABY 

WHY  not  sleep,  my  only  one, 

And  see  the  dreamland  bowers  ; 
The  fairy  dancing  has  begun  — 

'T  will  last  all  sleepy  hours. 
The  tiny  little  bluebells 

Are  ringing  out  their  tune, 
While  all  about  in  dream-dells 

The  fairy  flow' rets  bloom. 
La,  la,  la  !     Fairies  are  calling  thee  low 
La,  la,  la,  la  !     To  Dreamland  't  is 
time  to  go. 

Hush  !  the  birds  are  sleeping 

In  every  downy  nest ; 
Mamma  bird  is  keeping 

Watch  o'er  her  heart's  best. 
Never  can  her  birds,  dear, 

To  Fairy  Islands  fly  ; 
But  mamma's  darling,  nestling  here, 

In  dreams  will  pass  them  by. 


68 


RELINQUISHED 

I  SAW  him  lift  the  tendrils  of  her  softly-curling  hair 
And  gaze  into  her  witching  face.     I  turned  cold 

with  despair, 
Then  enraged  enough  was  I  to  kill ;  but  all  to  what 

avail  ? 
If  I  gave  way  to  my  anguish,  or  spoiled  their  lover's 

tale, 
'T  would  but  forge  the  fetters  stronger  of  faith  and 

constancy  — 
That  love  which,  now  another's,  had  once  been  sworn 

for  me. 
Then  a  change  came  o'er  my  spirit.      Two  souls 

beneath  the  sun 
Have  met  to  love  each  other.     Could  I,  then,  be  the 

one 
To  dampen  that  sweet  ardor,  encloud  my  darling's 

brow, 
When,  loving  so  another,  she  ne'er  could  love  me 

now  ? 


69 


A  STRAWBERRY    WISE 

SHE  lifted  a  ripened  strawberry  red 
And  I  remarked  on  its  crimson  hue, 

Standing  with  me  near  the  strawberry  bed, 
With  the  guests  of  the  lawn  fete  in  view. 

The  great  red  berry  was  held  by  its  stem 

In  her  dainty  white  finger-tips, 
But  it  fell  by  chance  to  her  dress's  hem, 

On  its  way  to  her  waiting  lips. 

And  no  other  berry  I  found  that  day, 
As  I  searched  in  the  sun's  hot  glare, 

Seemed  as  good  as  the  one  which  rolled  away 
And  lay  in  the  dust  over  there. 

Ah,  strawberry  wise,  't  is  easy  to  please, 
Keeping  far  from  reach  but  in  sight. 

Here  I  toil  for  a  smile  in  my  hours  of  ease 
And  gain  not  one  half  of  your  might. 


SPRAY 

A  SKA-SPRAY  called  to  the  dawning  day  : 
"  Hurry  and  kiss  ere  I  melt  away  "  ; 
And  the  dawn  to  old  Sol  beckoned  in  haste 
Lest  the  sweet  opportunity  he  should  waste. 

70 


A  shell  nestled  softly  into  the  sand ; 
A  lovely  girl  passed  with  swaying  hand ; 
The  shell  was  longing  this  owner  to  claim, 
But  was  crushed  by  her  tread  as  on  she  came. 

Old  Sol  paused  in  his  soft  caress 
To  stare  in  surprise  at  such  carelessness, 
And  the  spray's  brief  happiness  died  at  birth  ; 
But  the  girl  was  lost  in  a  dream  of  mirth. 


CHARM 

A  TINY  violet  swayed  and  bent 

And  smiled  up  at  the  sky  ; 
It  freely  gave  its  lovely  scent 

And  softly  wondered  why 
Mortals  all,  who  passed  that  way, 

Found  in  it  such  a  charm, 
And  seldom  let  a  violet  stay 

Where  it  was  free  from  harm. 

A  little  bird  sang  overhead 

A  gay  and  glad  refrain  — 
The  pretty  leaves  were  turning  red  ; 

The  sun  shone  in  the  lane. 
The  little  birdie's  modesty 

Was  great  ;  he  wondered  why 
The  children  paused  beneath  his  tree 

To  gaze  up  at  the  sky. 


INSPIRATION 

THY  voice  holds  in  its  magic 

A  wondrous  swaying  power, 
More  words  of  joy  and  tragic 

Expression  in  one  hour 
Than  volumes  of  sweet  verses  ; 

Than  wells  of  frozen  tears  ; 
Than  love,  when  it  immerses 

Our  soul  and  calms  our  fears. 

Thy  voice  enslaves  my  best  dreams 

And  opens  wide  a  door 
Wherein  sweet  nature  oft  seems 

To  lock  away  a  store 
Of  lovely  fancies  —  music's  dower  — 

Which  to  the  scribe  gives  fame. 
Thy  songs  are  like  unto  that  bower 

The  key-lock  is  —  thy  name. 

Thy  voice  is,  unto  one  mind, 

A  fount  of  endless  thought, 
An  inspiration  combined 

With  joy  which  ne'er  is  taught. 
O  let  the  word  oft  hear  thee, 

WThen,  with  an  artistic  choice, 
The  best  in  music  nobly 

Is  sung  by  thy  sweet  voice. 

72 


Then  let  me  like  an  echo 

But  word  the  world's  applause  ; 
Not  in  the  loud,  but  narrow, 

Pathway  of  fashion's  laws  ; 
But  with  a  pen  dipped  gently 

In  music-love  and  praise  ; 
With  a  glow  which,  evidently, 

Can  reflect  thy  soul's  own  rays. 


THE  LEAVES   TURN   RED 

THE  leaves  are  all  turning  to  red  and  gold ; 

Methinks  they  are  fair  when  aglow, 
For  my  great  love,  which  has  ne'er  been  told, 

Has  colored  my  life  just  so. 

A  golden  glimmer  now  touches  all 

My  days  with  a  sweet  repose, 
And  a  mystic  vapor  has  chosen  to  fall 

Like  the  scent  of  a  fragrant  rose. 

I  loved  none  yet  when  springtime  came, 
Save  the  sun  and  the  flowers  below  ; 

But  now  naught  seems  to  be  the  same, 
For  my  loved  one  adores  me  so. 

73 


A    PRAYER 

GOD  bless  you,  dear  one,  as  you  sleep  ; 

Thy  grave,  sweet  eyes  must  have  their  rest, 
And  o'er  your  slumbers,  tranquil,  deep, 

May  angels  pause  at  my  request. 

God  bless  you,  dear  one,  when  you  rise 

To  face  the  turmoil  of  each  day, 
And  give  to  you  the  greatest  prize 

For  which  you  long  and  strive  and  pray  ! 


THE   ROLLING   SEA 

THINK  often  of  the  rolling  sea  ; 
How,  in  dusky  starlight,  we 
Exchanged  a  thought ;  its  wondrous  might 
Made  in  our  minds  a  wish  for  right  — 

Right  in  true  affinity, 

Right  in  all  divinity. 

Think  often  of  the  rolling  sea, 
And  when  so  musing  give  to  me 
A  fleeting  thought,  however  dim, 
And  let  it  (like  an  echoing  hymn 
Refrain,  from  out  your  childhood's  store 
Of  mem'ries)  linger  ;  evermore.— 


ART  SUBJUGATED 
WHAT  was  't  thou  sang  to  me 
As  I  against  thy  knee 
Leaned,  on  the  sandy  beach 
Just  out  of  ocean's  reach  ? 
Neptune's  accompaniment 
A  strange  enchantment  lent 
To  that  most  beauteous  sound, 
Thy  voice  —  so  rich  and  round. 
Wierd  but  bewitching  hour  ! 
Voice  with  its  swaying  power  ! 
No  need  of  lyre  nor  harp  ; 
No  need  of  critic  sharp. 
Thine  was  an  artist's  name 
Already  known  to  fame  ; 
Yet  in  thee  none  could  see 
Aught  but  simplicity. 
I  there,  in  humble  joy, 
Scarce  breathed,  lest  sigh  annoy 
Thy  dreamy,  tunesome  mood 
Gently  by  muses  wooed. 
Sing'st  thou  not  alway  ? 
Never  did  audience  gay 
Hear  just  such  tones.     A  part 
Of  thy  sweet  soul.     Not  art ! 
Or  art  quite  subjugated 
By  Nature,  soul-related. 
Purity  by  thee  enthroned, 
Fitly  thy  voice  entoned. 

75 


MOONLIGHT   MUSINGS 

A  BAND  of  silver  lay  over  the  tide, 
And  the  lustre  held  such  a  spell 

That  I  wished  to  have  thee  by  my  side 
In  the  moonlight  an  hour  to  dwell. 

I  traveled  the  mystic,  beauteous  Hue, 
In  mind,  o'er  the  sea's  unrest, 

And  my  hand  instinctively  felt  for  thine, 
But  it  failed,  dear  heart,  in  its  quest. 

O'er  the  heaving  ocean's  silver  track, 
High  there,  on  the  smiling  night, 

We  journeyed  in  spirit,  then  came  back 
With  a  deeper  rev'rence  and  might. 

The  voyage  was  sweet,  beyond  compare, 
And  pure  as  the  light  on  the  sea, 

While  tho'  afar,  dear,  thou  lingered  there 
In  high-souled  commune,  love,  with  me. 


CONFIDENCES 

THERE  is  something,  O  so  sweet,  to  be  told, 

It  rings  on  the  summer  air  ; 
All  the  tiny  rose-buds  cherish,  enfold, 

The  secret  I  left  in  their  care. 

Each  leaf  on  the  topmost  branches 

Of  four  of  our  tallest  trees 
That  blissful  tale  enhances, 

As  it  whispers  it  to  the  breeze. 

Not  far  away  grow  some  lilies  sweet ; 

They  gleam  in  their  purity, 
And  just  here,  running  at  my  feet, 

The  brook  sings  my  secret  to  me. 

But  only  to  those  who  are  silent  and  wise 

Do  I  of  my  deep  love  tell ; 
By  the  time  the  rose-buds  open  their  eyes 

Some  one  else  may  know  it  as  well. 


77 


NONE  BUT  THE  BIRDS 

THE  woodbine  clambered  o'er  the  fence  ; 
A  maid  stood  by,  all  innocence. 
A  June  sunbeam  reaching  through 
The  shade  tree's  boughs  touched  new 
Her  glossy  hair.     Ah,  what  thy  blush? 
Listen,  ye  noisy  birds  !     Hearken  !     Hush  ! 
"  Dear  heart,"  cries  he. 

"  Waiting  for  me  ? 

Then  thou  'It  say 

Yes,  when  I  pray 

Come  to  my  heart 

Never  to  part. ' ' 

September.     The  woodbine  hangs  its  bloom 
Sunbeams  marvel  at  such  gloom. 
A  chill  little  breeze  which  comes  to  say  : 
"  God  speed  "  to  the  lovers,  moved  away. 
For  the  lad  stands  by  the  fence  alone. 
To  God,  in  spirit,  his  bride  had  flown. 

None  but  the  birds 

Hear  his  sad  words. 

"  Dearheart,"  cries  he, 

"  Wait  yet  for  me  ; 

I  am  coming  above 

To  thee,  my  love  ! ' ' 


MY    SWEETHEART 

NOT  all  the  gold  of  the  daffodil, 
Made  glorious  by  Nature's  skill, 
Nor  the  mystic-scented  coronet 
Which  sweetly  crowns  the  violet, 
Nor  yet  the  fragrant  heliotrope, 
With  its  tiny  flow' rets  all  aslope, 
Could  show  you  e'en  the  smallest  part 
Of  the  dainty  charm  of  my  sweetheart. 
Should  any  on  this  earth  despise 
This  loved  one  whom  I  idolize 
I  would  his  words  and  looks  defy 
And  throw  into  his  face  the  lie  ; 
Nor  would  I  even  once  permit 
That  she  should  for  his  benefit 
Smile  and  graciously  forgive, 
Nor  even  frown  a  negative. 
My  darling  who,  when  boys  molest 
Some  birdlings  in  their  downy  nest, 
Grows  tender  with  a  woman's  love 
Lent  to  her  by  the  hosts  above. 
Let  Nature's  song  and  mine  combine 
This  dainty  darling  to  enshrine 
In  each  pure  mind.     Then  there,  apart, 
Will  reign  in  splendor  my  sweetheart. 


79 


A    SCAR 

AGE,  with  its  creases,  in  passing  by 
Scattered  a  few  for  youth  to  try. 
One  fell  on  a  soft  and  girlish  face 
And  settled  slowly  into  place. 

I  knew,  without  her  telling  me, 

That  the  early  little  crease  must  be 

Only  the  very  smallest  part 

Of  a  heavy  blow  which  bruised  her  heart. 


SOMK  SOLACE   SWEET    CREATING 

I  THINTK  that  heaven  meant  not  so  sad  an  ending 
Unto  my  dream  of  loveliness  and  light, 

Or  else  that  cloud  was  lowered  while  intending 
To  lead  my  soul  unto  a  higher  flight. 

Mayhap  the  years  which  pass  will  tell  their  story, 
How  better  far  it  was  for  us  to  part, 

And  happiness  in  fuller,  grander  glory 
Will  fill  each  crevice  of  an  aching  heart. 

But,  ah,  the  sadness  and  the  dreary  waiting  ; 

The  heartbeats  each,  dear  one,  a  sob  for  thee  ! 
Is  time  some  gentle  solace  sweet  creating, 

Or  will  it  lead  thee  back  again  to  me  ? 

80 


TENDERNESS 

THERE  are  no  words  too  sweet  and  kind, 

No  songs  too  tender,  deep, 
To  show  the  thoughts  which  fill  ray  mind 

And  penetrate  my  sleep. 

Such  words  and  songs  are  merely  tone 

And  poorly  do  their  part 
When  they  describe  my  love  for  you  — 

A  love  which  fills  my  heart. 

Ah,  darling,  if  you  hear  me  tell 

Of  this  great  love  of  mine, 
And  how  my  eyes  with  tears  do  swell 

While  yours  with  light  do  shine  ! 

I  '11  bless  thee  for  one  single  smile, 

Or  for  a  pitying  tear, 
If  thou  'It  but  linger  yet  a  while 

To  listen  and  to  hear. 


81 


HUMAN   NATURE 
[ONE  SIDE] 

THE  crowd  in  waiting  for  a  star 

The  sun  forgot ; 
Next  day  was  rain)'  near  and  far. 

The  sun  shone  not. 

Night  fell  ;  neither  star  nor  tnoon 

The  darkness  cheered  ; 
Next  day  the  glorious  sun  at  noon 

Again  appeared. 

The  crowd,  while  basking  in  its  rays, 

Forgot  't  was  there, 
Save  to,  in  their  several  hundred  ways, 

Deplore  the  glare. 


GUITAR    SONG 

NEARBY  in  silence  is  lying 

My  stringless,  forlorn  guitar, 
And  I  think,  not  without  sighing. 

How  like  it  our  lives  oft  are  ; 
In  the  soul  is  many  a  sweet  strain 

Of  harmony  divine, 
Which  draws  us  heavenward  again 

Unto  the  holy  shrine. 

82 


Life's  noisy  bells  keep  tolling  ; 

In  the  sound  we  soon  forget 
The  softer  tones  and  rolling 

Vibrations  of  regret ; 
But  when  forlorn  our  souls  lie 

Bereft,  unstrung,  alone, 
An  angel's  hand  just  passing  by 

Fills  the  space  with  sweetest  tone. 


WOULDST  thou  deny  the  rose's  charm  and  mystic  scent, 

Its  dainty  hue, 
Because  a  chance  thorn  your  blundering  finger  rent, 

And  startled  you  ? 

Would,  unto  thee,  thy  much-loved  harp  become 

A  senseless  thing 
Because  thy  hand  had  left  it,  made  it  dumb, 

Bereft  of  string  ? 

Then  would  one  fear  to  have  thee  hold 

The  scales  of  life, 
Lest  by  some  caprice  odd  and  bold 

Thou  shouldst  bring  strife. 


AN  ANSWER  TO  "PARTING" 

WHAT  if,  perchance,  your  parting  were  a  vain 
And  needless  manner  of  inflicting  pain 
Upon  another  and  yourself  as  well  ? 
Mayhap  that  other  time  has  chosen  to  tell 
That  in  the  sundering  of  those  tender  ties 
Mistake  was  made  —  doleful  error  lies  ? 
What  if,  thus,  with  active,  clamoring  pen, 
That  other's  sorrow  should  be  known  by  men  ? 
Deep  rivers,  like  deep  sorrows,  true  are  still  ; 
They  hide  as  well  some  hideous  crimes  until 
The  Judgment  Day.     Will  hidden  troubles  ride 
In  moody  silence  next  to  false  self-pride  ? 
From  speaking  lips  and  loving  hearts  one  knows 
Much  foolishness,  yet  much  candor  flows  ; 
But  sorrows,  such  as  mourning  o'er  our  dead, 
Need  little  showing,  they  are  hallowed. 
Our  living  griefs,  like  your  well-quoted  wine, 
Should  ever  with  a  mellow  lustre  shine. 
If  right  should  rule  your  coming  e'er  together, 
Dare  not  to  judge  of  anguish  in  another  ! 


84 


OUR  TREE 

I  SIT  me  down  near  the  Christmas  tree 

And  look  at  each  gleaming  bough. 
Wondering  if,  as  grown  children,  we 

Are  not  pleased  with  tinsel  e'en  now. 
There  are  gay  glass  balls,  crimson  and  gold, 

Representing  our  bubble-like  schemes  ; 
There  are  brownies,  too,  and  fairies  of  old, 

Like  the  phantoms  of  our  day-dreams. 
I  see  bunches  of  cotton,  looking  like  snow, 

Here  and  there  on  the  sombre,  dark  green  ; 
A  sham  which  the  branches  seem  to  know 

As  they  peep  from  their  glittering  screen. 
Impossible  birds,  yet  pretty  withal, 

On  twigs  are  perched  by  some  wire, 
While  from  bottom  to  top  the  tree  so  tall 

Holds  false  fruit,  flowers  and  entire 
Chains  of  gilded  and  silvered  stuff 

To  challenge  the  eyes  of  our  boy, 
While  his  rosy  face  is  beaming  enough 

To  reflect  in  my  own  some  real  joy. 


85 


BELL  CHIMES 


HAST  thou  ever  chanced  to  dwell 
Near  a  dainty  lily  bell 
Which,  with  myriads  of  its  kind, 
One  can  in  the  shadows  find 
Ringing  out  in  silent  night 
Tiny  tunes  with  all  its  might  ? 
Sunday  eve  these  flow'  rets  preach 
Whispered  sermons  —  out  of  reach 
Of  hearing  !     They  are  only  heard 
By  each  other,  or  a  bird. 
When  the  day  breaks,  lily  bell, 
Pure  and  pale,  throws  off  the  spell 
Of  the  silent,  dew-clad  night. 
Fair,  so  sweet,  and  snowy  white, 
Dainty  lily  smiles  about 
While  its  matin  chimes  ring  out. 


EDNA 

EDNA,  the  flowerets  open  their  eyes 
To  gaze  at  your  beauty  glowing, 

And  flowers  are  wise. 
Edna,  the  roses  smile  up  in  your  face 
And  fancy  for  you  are  they  growing, 

To  pin  in  your  lace. 

86 


Edna,  the  squirrel  'neath  yonder  tree, 
Trusting  your  gentleness,  willed  to  stay 

With  you  and  me  ; 

So  I,  too,  am  gentle  perhaps,  my  sweet. 
Will  you  be  good  to  me  when  I  pray 

That  our  lives  may  meet  ? 


APRIL  DAYS 

nature  seems  a-budding 

Reply  to  God's  command, 
And  the  tiny  flowers  are  studding 

The  newly  green-draped  land. 
A  deep  and  grave  emotion 

Sweeps  o'er  me  like  the  tide 
Of  the  restless,  heaving  ocean, 

And  heaven  seems  opened  wide. 

The  earth  is  all  transcendent 

With  lovely,  fragrant  things  ; 
Each  star  there  hanging  pendant 

A  loving  message  brings. 
Ah,  may  this  reverent  feeling 

Come  to  each  one  and  last, 
A  newer  life  revealing 

Ere  it  sinks  into  the  past. 

87 


MEMORY'S   SEA 

Is  THERE  at  3rour  back,  as  you  stand  on  the  strand, 
An  ocean  of  memory  which  leaves  on  the  sand 
Small  bits  of  blackened  and  shipwrecked  joy  ? 
Have  these  yet  power  to  grieve  or  annoy  ? 

Turn  !  Look  out  on  this  sea  of  the  past 
At  the  beautiful  vessel  with  glistening  mast  ; 
How  it  braved  the  storm,  pure,  pearly  white  ; 
It  was  freighted  with  love,  but  sank  out  of  sight. 

There  in  its  wake  comes  the  battleship  ' '  Hope  ' '  ; 
Through  storm  and  'mid  demons  its  way  it  must 

grope. 

And  off  in  yon  distance,  high  in  the  air, 
Floats  the  black  but  majestic  old  cruiser  "  Despair." 

Pause  yet  awhile  till  they  all  pass  us  by, 
Then  gaze  again,  nay  not  with  a  sigh  — 
See.  a  God-given  sunbeam  has  found  release 
Acid  shows  through  the  darkness  the  steamer  called 
"  Peace." 


A  LOST  IDEAL 

DEAREST,  I  see  your  rebellious  curls 

In  memory's  mirror  to-day  ; 
They  are  golden  brown  —  more  than  one  twirls 

From  the  care-taking  hair-pin  awa)'. 

88 


Dearest,  I  see  your  hazel-gray  eyes  ; 

They  show  a  glimpse  of  your  soul, 
Which  is  as  pure  as  your  brain  is  wise  — 

The  two  make  an  ideal  whole. 

Dearest,  I  hear  your  soft,  low  voice, 

As  it  crept  into  my  heart, 
And  wonder  why  fate  made  so  harsh  a  choice 

When  it  willed  that  we  should  part. 


DAFFODIL 

YELLOW,  golden  daffodil, 
Say  you  that  the  world  is  cold, 
Think  you  that  mankind  is  bold  — 

Earth  a  desert  still  ? 

Smiling,  joyous  daffodil, 
Say  you  that  the  sky's  dark  cloud 
Wills  your  dainty  head  be  bowed  — 

Shall  you  do  its  will  ? 

No,  bright,  golden  daffodil, 
Gleam  and  laugh  ;  make  light  the  day. 
Let  the  clouds  with  mortals  stay  - 

Sunshine  's  with  you  still. 

89 


DREAMS 

O  COME  into  my  realm  of  flowers 

Whose  every  petal  grew  for  thee, 
And  let  it  be  a  bower  of  ours  ; 

A  rosy  crown  for  you  and  me. 
My  troubled  heart  cries  out  for  peace  ; 

Nights  are  sad  and  days  are  long  ; 
Graveness  now  demands  release  ; 

Gladness  would  break  into  song. 

O  come  into  my  realm  of  dreams 

With  Nature's  real  and  living  grace. 
To  my  thinking  nothing  seems 

Half  so  heavenly  as  thy  face. 
Dreams  are  misty  joys  and  fine  — 

Ivead  one  in  a  blissful  maze  ; 
But  to  have  thee,  heart  divine 

Is  my  dream  of  dreams,  always. 


COMPANIONSHIP 

SWEET  are  the  words,  in  gentle  tone, 
Of  the  one  in  whose  face  I  often  look, 

As  we  sit  together  at  eve  alone  ; 
Or  read  in  turn  the  self-same  book, 

Some  romance,  perhaps,  of  olden  time, 

Some  quaint  tale,  or  some  sweet  rhyme. 

90 


MY  SWEET 

Flowers  and  candies  and  jewels  galore, 

Fit  for  a  queen,  for  the  one  I  adore  ! 

A  wand  of  rose  leaves  she  charmingly  wields, 

But  her  red  lips  for  kisses  she  scarce  ever  yields. 

A  flow  of  sharp  wit  she  has,  besides  brain, 

And  no  man  conies  near  who  is  n't  her  swain. 

Yet  she  has  no  smallest  idea  of  her  power, 

Nor  how  we  are  favored  by  ent'ring  her  bower. 

I  gaze  at  the  buckle  that  shines  on  her  shoe 

And  guiltily  wonder  whate'er  I  would  do 

If  she  should  detect  me  adoring  her  so. 

I  know  not  indeed  if  't  would  please  her  or  no. 

American  Beauties  I  throw  at  her  feet ; 

Even  they  are  not  lovely  enough  for  my  sweet. 


LINES 

SOME  brood  o'er  grief,  others  make  moan  ; 

'T  is  a  matter  of  temperament,  each  has  his  own  ; 

But  none  has  the  merest  idea  of  power 

That  a  grief  or  a  joy  can  exert  in  an  hour 

O'er  the  life  of  another — to  make  or  to  mar. 

He  who  seeks  peace,  in  spite  of  the  scar 

Of  broken  relations,  is  e'er  in  the  right ; 

For  why  live  in  darkness  when  one  can  have  light  ? 

91 


NOT  FORGOTTEN 

How  can  I  keep  on  so, 
Wringing  my  heart  with  woe, 

Ne'er  to  be  free  ? 
Then  would  my  eyes  grow  dim, 
All  joy  and  strength  and  vim 

Starve,  and  for  thee  ! 

Yes,  thou  hast  turned  from  me 
With  scarce  excuse  or  plea, 

Not  e'en  a  word 
From  those  cold  lips  of  thine, 
Nor  didst  thou  write  a  line.— 

Friendship  interred. 

I  ope'd  my  heart  to  thee, 
That  thou  mightst  therein  see 

Every  fond  thought. 
Thou  my  poor  efforts  praised, 
Which  to  please  thee  were  raised 

Then  set  at  naught. 

May  be  sometime  e'en  thou 
Thy  fond,  fair  face  will  bow 

In  pain  of  loss 
Of  those  to  thee  most  dear. 
Ah  !  then  thou  'It  find,  I  fear, 

Pride  were  but  dross. 

92 


Heaven  grant,  ere  then,  my  sweet, 
Thou  mayst  a  warm  friend  meet 

To  act  my  part. 
Yet  though  I  '11  not  be  there 
Part  of  thy  grief  to  bear, 

Warm  is  my  heart. 


SAUCY   RED    ROBIN 

THERE  's  a  merry  red  robin  outside  in  the  tree  ; 
He  is  pertly  looking  straight  down  at  me. 
Mayhap  a  secret  is  wrapped  in  his  song  : 
"  Wait  not  too  late,  wait  not  too  long." 

Last  night  I  was  cruel  out  by  the  gate, 
Said  to  a  tale  of  love  that  I  should  wait 
Some  years,  then  marry.     Was  that  wrong  ? 
"  Wait  not  too  late,  wait  not  too  long." 

How  know  I  thy  meaning,  robin  so  red  ? 

Does  the  love  in  my  heart,  then,  urge  me  to  wed? 

Saucy  red  robin,  fly  off  with  thy  song  : 

"  Wait  not  too  late,  wait  not  too  long." 

93 


THE   DAISY   DELL 

DOWN  in  the  daisy-covered  dell 

They  stood,  and  the  birds  all  chirped,  "'T  is  well," 

While  the  rippling  water  seemed  to  say : 

"  They  are  young,  they  are  lovers,  I  '11  run  away." 

A  bright  little  zephyr  that  came  amiss 

Tried  to  share  in  their  lover's  kiss. 

Down  in  the  dell 
Where  daisies  dwell. 
"Oh,  what  bliss, 
Sweetheart,  is  this  ! 
Do  not  depart, 
Love  of  my  heart, 
For  I  live  for  thee, 
My  love,"  cried  he. 

Down  on  the  daisy-covered  ground 

He  kneels  beside  a  mossy  mound, 

And  the  wind  moans  weirdly  'midst  the  trees, 

Where,  only  a  month,  the  breeze 

Had  playfully,  on  a  day  like  this, 

Tried  to  share  in  that  lover's  kiss. 

Little  brook,  stay, 

Nor  run  away  ! 

Hush,  merry  birds; 

Not  chirps  nor  words 

Can  still  his  moan 

As  he  stands  alone 

By  the  new-laid  sod 

With  his  dead  —  and  God  ! 

94 


IN   SOUTUDE 

SHALL  I  try  to  place  on  canvas 
Such  a  scene  as  thou  wilt  prize  ? 

Shall  I  write  in  glowing  words,  love, 
Rhapsodies  to  meet  thine  eyes  ? 

Shall  I  play  in  dulce  measure 

Lullabies  unto  thy  soul  ; 
Or  invoke  the  aid  of  sirens 

That  thy  love  might  find  its  goal  ? 

Draw  thee  near  with  powers  fleeting, 
Magic  sweetness  not  thine  own  ? 

No  ;  not  while  this  heart  is  beating 
With  a  love  that  builds  thy  throne. 

Mayhap  quiet  is  my  greeting, 
Even  strained  may  be  my  tone, 

But  I  live  again  the  meeting 

In  fair  thoughts  when  quite  alone. 

In  thy  absence  crave  I  no  one  ; 

Solitude  is  peopled  well 
With  a  multitude  of  fancies  — 

Each  a  dream  of  thee  could  tell. 

Prisoner  thine,  my  thoughts  indeed  are, 

Bound  in  slavery  so  proud 
That  the  chains  seem  rose-hued  vapor 

With  the  strength  of  love  endowed. 

95 


AGE'S  SNOW 

HANDS,  once  most  eager,  lay  aside  ; 

Now  age's  snow-storm  falls- 
Brilliant  fancies  cease  to  ride 

Along  the  sombre  halls. 
Repose  is  now  the  heart's  high  aim  ; 

Let  twilight  gently  come 
Into  the  day.     Oh,  but  to  claim 

Sweet  rest !     This  voice  is  dumb  ! 
Varied  mem'ries  hover  near  ; 

What  was,  not  what  is  now, 
Engulfs  the  mind  ;  but  naught  of  fear 

E'er  settles  on  this  aged  brow. 

The  past,  that  great  kaleidoscope, 

'Midst  winged  joys  and  fairy  meads, 
Where  grew  the  brilliant  bud  of  hope  ; 

And  romance,  born  by  fiery  steeds, 
Passed  by  with  dash  and  cheer. 

Once  more  to  view  them,  one  by  one 
'T  is  well  to  look  and  hear, 

Standing  thus  at  set  of  sun 
With  ne'er  a  thought  of  fear, 

The  dream  dies  out,  hurries  past. 
The  snowy  road,  as  yet  untrod, 

Is  short,  and  leads  at  last 
To  sweet  repose  and  rest  —  and  God  ! 


96 


ONE   NOOK 

JUST  a  scene  of  fragrant  verdure, 

Elsewhere  unsurpassed  in  charm, 
Where,  unworn,  unspoilt  by  handwork, 

Nature  reigns  without  alarm. 
There  a  graceful,  rapid  river 

Passes  calmly  hill  and  weir, 
While  its  glancing,  placid  waters 

Bear  no  burdens,  none  need  fear. 

Leafy  bowers  tone  down  the  radiance 

Of  the  sunshine,  and  some  fern 
Flourish  in  a  vast  green  arbor. 

Ah,  the  birds  are  quick  to  learn 
Where  the  green  is  e'er  the  greenest, 

And  they  chirp  a  greeting  shrill 
To  things  living,  best  or  meanest, 

Slothful  worm  or  whip-poor-will  ! 

See  the  fox  from  thicket  peering 

And  the  saucy  squirrel  aswing  ; 
Boldly  in  his  freedom  fearing 

Naught  —  he  feels  a  very  king  ! 
What  a  world  of  wonders  quicken, 

Till  they  part  and  fade  away 
In  the  sunny,  sleepy  bosom 

Of  the  scene  recalled  to-dav. 


97 


DISILLUSIONED 

MARGERY  spies  a  great  crimson  rose 
And  pulls  it  down  to  her  pretty  nose  ; 
A  sharp  cry  rings  out  on  the  sunny  morn  — 
Her  fingers  are  pierced  by  an  angry  thorn. 

But  she,  entranced  by  the  lovely  bloom, 
Tries  to  pluck  it  to  take  it  to  her  room  ; 
Places  her  fingers  with  utmost  care, 
Lest  the  thorns  again  her  soft  flesh  tear. 

She  bends  the  flower  to  break  it  free, 
But  finds  on  its  petals  a  bumble-bee. 
Determined,  she  comes  for  the  sweet  rose  later, 
Only  to  find  her  troubles  the  greater  ; 
For  the  rose's  heart  had  been  eaten  away 
By  a  canker-worm  on  that  fair  day. 


98 


THE   DYING   DAY 

BATHED  in  the  light  from  my  casement 

Stands  the  harp  with  its  golden  strings. 
As  I  play,  I  find  perfect  effacement 

From  all  gross  and  earthly  things. 
I  follow  the  soothing  onflow 

Of  sound  almost  sublime, 
And  feel  a  soft  and  gentle  glow 

Which  my  soul  seeks  many  a  time. 

Then  just  as  the  last  tone  ceases, 

So  the  light  of  the  dying  day 
Fades  out  ;  the  dusk  increases 

Like  a  sorrow  which  comes  to  stay  ; 
But  the  harp,  as  it  is  bidden 

By  my  hands,  banishes  care 
With  its  gentle  tones  and  hidden 

Rejoicing,  peace  and  prayer. 


99 


A   TENDER   HAND 

THERE  is  a  hand,  a  dainty  hand, 

That  plays  no  trifling  part  ; 
'T  is  not  unlike  a  strengthening  band 

Secured  around  my  heart. 
It  wipes  away  the  tears  of  pain 

And  gives  a  warmth  divine  ; 
It  clamors  not  for  praise  nor  gain, 

This  hand  which  oft  holds  mine. 

O  dainty,  sweetly-perfect  charm 
That  lingers  in  its  touch  ; 

0  faint  my  heart  is  with  alarm 
I^est  I  not  answer  such 

Endearing,  tender,  soft  caress 
With  like  sustaining  power  ! 

1  tear  my  soul  that  tenderness 

May  gleam  forth  for  an  hour. 


THE   MASK 

BRING  the  powder  and  the  mask, 
They  will  nothing  further  ask. 
See  the  glittering,  smiling  grace, 
Where  masks  all  —  each  glowing  face. 
Yonder  dainty  maiden  there, 
With  the  curling,  gold-brown  hair, 
Finds  the  moments  gliding  by 
Empty  —  with  her  swain  not  nigh. 
Yet  she  laughs — such  is  her  training — 
While  her  joy  in  life  is  waning. 
Look  across  the  crowded  room  ; 
There,  where  the  azaleas  bloom, 
Stands  the  brilliant  wife  of  one 
Bankrupt,  ruined  ere  rise  of  sun  ; 
Yet  she  stands  in  graceful  ease, 
Tho'  the  morrow's  fall  she  sees. 
Oh,  bring  the  mask  and  powder  nigh  ! 
Sing  a  song — to  hide  a  cry. 


101 


ECHOES 

A  SONG 

HARK  to  the  shrill,  sweet  echo 
That  rings  from  the  hills  afar, 

Long  for  a  tender  handclasp, 
Gaze  at  the  evening  star — 
Love,  dear,  is  where  you  are. 

Lift  to  mine  own  those  dear  eyes, 

Softly  entone  my  name, 
Ne'er  let  us  mind  the  echoes 

Saying  it  o'er  the  same — 

That  is  the  way  joy  came. 

Heart  once  so  sad  with  yearning 
Now  is  with  warmth  aglow. 

Raise  but  once  more  thy  glance,  sweet 
Answer  me  soft  and  low, — 
But  joyful  is  the  echo. 


JACK'S   WIFE 

THIS  is  the  house  that  Jack  built. 
This  is  the  cage  he  placed  Evelyn  in, 
With  pots  and  pans,  kettles  and  tin. 

This  is  the  house  that  Jack  built. 

This  is  the  maiden  who  married. 
This  is  the  maiden  who  married  a  man 
Who  plays  a  nice  tune  with  tomato  can. 

This  is  the  maiden  who  married. 

This  is  the  kitchen  she  stays  in. 
Her  once  white  hands  are  seamed  with  toil- 
The  coal  to  bring  up,  the  potatoes  to  boil. 

This  is  the  kitchen  she  stays  in. 

This  is  the  cat  who  lives  there, 
The  hungry  cat  who  lies  in  the  way 
And  looks  about  in  wild-eyed  dismay 
At  a  delicate  creature  working  all  day. 

This  is  the  cat  who  lives  there. 


103 


WHEN  THOU  ART  NEAR 

Now  daylight  wanes  and  dusky  night 

Unfolds  its  wings  to  shadow  all  ; 
But  evening  yields  to  my  delight 

Whate'er  befall  —  whate'er  befall. 
Ah,  better  far  than  sun's  best  ray 

Is  twilight  which  will  bring  thee  here  ! 
My  midnight  is  the  world's  fair  day  — 

My  sunshine  glows  when  thou  art  near  ! 

My  heart  cries  out  for  thy  sweet  face  — 

'T  is  weary  waiting  long  for  thee 
To  come  and  gladden  this  poor  place 

Which,  tho'  so  fair,  is  dark  to  me. 
Thine  eyes  will  teach  me  fullest  joy  ; 

Thy  voice  enrich  the  silence  drear 
With  sweetness  such  as  ne'er  can  cloy, 

When  thou  art  near,  when  thou  art  near. 


104 


A   GLANCE 

SONG 

SUCH  a  glance,  such  a  gleam  from  those  beauteous 
eyes 

As  I  saw  on  that  fair  day  ! 
'T  was  a  look,  swift  and  fleet,  full  of  glad  surprise. 

Leaving  naught  for  tongue  to  say. 
Then  a  soft  little  hand  in  this  one  of  mine 

Nestled  down,  but  was  withdrawn. 
Ah,  I  '11  ne'er  forget  that  dear  glance  of  thine 

In  the  moonlight  on  the  lawn  ! 

The  years  followed  when  lone  and  lorn  I  stood 

Until  we  met  again, 
And  of  all  life's  ill  nothing  seemed  fair  or  good. 

And  hope  was  on  the  wane. 
Then  my  heart  gave  a  bound  of  great  bliss  and  pride. 

When  I  once  more  saw  thy  face 
And  stood  welcomed  back  unto  thy  side, 

Where  my  heart  had  found  its  place. 


105 


ADIEU,  LAST  STAR 

THEKE  are  only  eleven  daisies  in  sight 

There  were  hundreds  all  abloom  that  night. 

When  we  came  to  gather  them  he  said  : 
"  I  love  thee  dearest,  wilt  thou  wed  ?  " 

There  are  only  two  stars  shining  above  — 
There  were  many  the  night  we  spoke  of  love. 

But  why  should  the  stars  shine  overhead  — 
Are  they  needed  to  show  that  love  is  dead  ? 

A  storm  now  rages  —  the  wind  moans  so, 
Like  pain  in  a  heart  that  yields  to  woe. 

Only  scattered  leaves  now,  the  daisies  are, 
And  clouds  hang  darkly.     Adieu,  last  star  ! 


106 


OVERLOOKED 

THE  brook  ran  softty,  cool  and  clear  ; 

The  day  was  warm  ; 
A  thirsty  traveler  riding  near 

Prayed  for  a  storm. 

A  fragrant  bank  of  violets  grew 

A  near  a  maid 
Who  had,  in  searching,  found  but  two 

And  felt  dismayed. 

A  life  was  counting  out  its  years 

For  some  one's  sake  ; 
That  other,  scorning  love  and  fears, 

The  thread  did  break. 


107 


A   SHIELD 

INDIFFERENCE  ?     Well,  then,  call  it  so. 
Enough  for  me  that  you  do  not  know 
That  this  shield  for  my  love  serves  so  well, 
That  my  eyes  do  not  their  poor  story  tell 
Of  love.     O,  yes,  't  is  indifference,  you  say, 
That  lives  in  my  words  and  manner  to-day — 
This  of  all  days.    Oh,  brain,  keep  up  your  pace  ! 
One  mad  moment,  a  change  in  my  face, 
And  the  work  of  months  in  self-control 
Away  like  a  cloud  or  a  mist  would  roll. 
Ah,  why  is  it  one's  lips  grow  white 
And  a  veil-like  vapor  benumbs  the  sight 
At  times  like  this  ?     Oh,  merciless  day  ! 
Can  the  sun  shine  on  midst  such  dismay  ? 
Now,  one  great  effort,  a  calm,  cold  tone, 
A  steady  glance.     Cease,  heart,  to  moan, 
Love  must  be  banished,  it  can  not  stay — 
Stony  indifference  reigns  from  to-day. 


108 


SHALL  WE 

JOKE  ?     It  is  jolly  and  friendly 
And  causes  many  a  laugh  ; 
But  a  joke  will  end 
When  the  heart  of  a  friend 
Is  hurt  by  the  thoughtless  chaff. 

Tease  ?     It  is  but  a  pastime 
And  seldom  draws  a  frown  ; 

But  tease  no  more 

If  feelings  are  sore, 
Nor  laugh  at  a  heart  cast  down. 

Smile  ?     It  is  bonny  and  winsome, 
Like  the  sunshine's  brightest  ray. 

Then  pause  if  grief 

Requires  relief; 
You  can  smile  another  day. 


109 


TO   A   FRIEND 

Dear  Major: 

A  SONNET  I  did  threaten  unto  thee 
And  such,  in  truth,  the  following  shall  be  : 
I,  knowing  little,  can  not  fully  tell 
What  lofty  thoughts  do  often  rise  and  swell 
Within  thy  mind.     For  there  a  mighty  store 
Of  science  dwells,  sacred  and  classic  lore, 
Artistic  worth,  and  practical  good  sense  ; 
Linguistic  knowledge,  perfect  innocence 
Of  aught  unworthy,  mean,  dull  or  small, 
Lives  in  thy  brain.     Nor  is  this  nearly  all. 
Mayhap  at  times,  say  days  or  weeks  apart, 
Thou  giv'st  a  fleeting  thought  unto  the  heart 
Of  this,  thy  friend,  who,  whatsoever  doing, 
Is  then  and  ever  thine. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


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